


A Place For Us

by tothevision



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Family, Fantasy, Incest, Jealousy, Love, Romance, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-16
Updated: 2010-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothevision/pseuds/tothevision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A behind the scenes look at the movie 'Prince Caspian'. What happened that we didn't get to see?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a "behind the scenes" look at 'Prince Caspian'. It's all the things that we didn't get to see within the movie. It also gives an explanation for a lot of what happened in the movie that didn't really make sense. In my opinion, this actually does a better job of explaining the movie than the movie did explaining itself! haha. It will very closely follow the movie's timeline, so be sure to keep that in mind. Obviously, moviecanon!

And just like that they were back. The salty sea air tasted light and tangy in her mouth. She barely had a chance to breathe it all in, to take a step and feel the sand crumbling under her school shoes… Peter gasped beside her. Was she dreaming again? His body radiated energy from beside her and she could feel the invisible chains edging round once again. He was heavy and imposing as he stood so very close, she didn't like it one bit. Everything was changed. Lucy stepped out next to her, and before even looking down into her little sister's face, Susan knew what she would find. The smile was infectious and its result welcome.

Lucy reminded her of happiness, what was really at the heart of this change. Giggling, Lucy grabbed her hand and Susan happily followed. They ran towards the clear blue water, their shoes and socks littering the path behind them. Susan heard Ed and Peter not far behind them and soon they were all splashing about in the surprisingly warm basin. Laughter echoed around them and a lightheartedness swelled within her at the sound, such relief and contentment she had been deprived for so long… After thinking they would never have this chance, after stonily resolving herself to a certain and precise existence…she was really here again.

They hiked up the hillside, he threw Lucy an apple, Susan's bare feet felt free in the overgrown grass among the ruins. She knew what he wanted, could feel his gaze at her back, but she couldn't. That was all.

Peter walked away to explore a bit more and her sigh of relief threatened to be a sob. Lucy bounced up to see the view. A glint of gold hidden underneath the overgrown weeds caught Susan's eye.

"I wonder who lived here," Lucy mused aloud.

The familiarity of the weighted figurine in her hand was too strong to deny.

"I think we did," she replied.

As soon as the words left her mouth, a sense of dread flooded her body, the same that had crept upon her before in the cave. The moment she realized where they truly were.

Peter and Edmund were talking, she didn't really hear, and then Lucy was pulling him somewhere. Standing on their ruined throne, gazing out into what was once the magnificent and loved hall that they spent so many years in, Susan heard his awed whisper.

"Cair Paravel."

She couldn't. Not again.

* * *

"Peter!" she heard Lucy call, the sound muffled by the door between them. Susan assumed her sister had come back in search of the eldest brother who _promised_ to play with her outside. When Lucy called again, with a tinge of annoyance in her tone, she knew she was right. Deciding to ignore them altogether, as she had been working so diligently to do these last three weeks, Susan delved back into her book from where she laid curled on the bay window seat. It was a temperate, cloudy day, but not so much as to encourage the other Pevensie's to keep indoors. The glass pane was cool on her forehead as she leaned against it. Edmund on the ground outside caught her attention and she watched for a moment as he ran across the yard looking for the ball he dropped.

It all hurt so much.

Three weeks they had been back. Three weeks since Susan lost everything she held dear. Three weeks since their lives were irrevocably changed and hardened. They were back in the Professor's house, having resumed their lives as though nothing of importance had occurred. Living as though they were children, not adults trapped in the bodies of younglings. Susan was twenty-seven years old and though some of the memories faded, they refused to diminish. On the outside looking in, she was a solemn young girl of twelve, and on the inside looking out, she was a woman screaming.

Forget. That was all she could tell herself. Forget and you'll heal. Forget and the pain will vanish. For how can you ache and grieve for something you no longer remember?

She knew he was coming to see her before the doorknob even turned. Footsteps fell on the hardwood floor.

"Will you join us?" he asked quietly.

Having already prepared the answer, she shook her head. "Not today."

Not today, not yesterday, or the day before that, or tomorrow. The same as it had been every day and he would leave, not knowing what to do otherwise.

The first few days back, all four of them stumbled around in a state of stupor – not quite sure what to expect, how to adjust. Then Lucy was the first to break out of it. "It'll be alright," she told them. "We'll go back someday." Susan didn't believe her. How could she? Edmund smiled and hugged Lucy in gratitude, and over time, gradually, they began to be Ed and Lu again – bickering, teasing, and playing. Children.

How desperately she wanted the same.

Peter didn't leave after she turned down the habitual offer. Not hearing the expected click of the door closing, Susan looked up curiously. He still stood there, in the middle of the room, arms folded across his chest in a posture she knew intimately. The arms used to be thicker, stronger, and the chest was broader, filling out his tunic flawlessly. He was a boy – not the man she loved, the man she married, the man she spent fifteen years of unparalleled happiness with – just a boy.

"Don't do this, Susan," he said, his voice cracked over her name.

She didn't answer, why would she? He tried talking to her before, only to have her stop him in his tracks. No more, was what she said, it cannot be. There were tears and pleading, but to no avail. It wasn't her choice, she said. It was what was handed to them – she had no more power or control over it than he. The life they knew was lost, as was their love. To Susan's relief and utter heartache, he didn't speak of it again after that night.

"Don't leave me like this," he said, but she had already turned back to the window. Edmund had disappeared below and the spot where she had rested her forehead turned unpleasantly warm and sticky.

"Just go, Peter," she said tiredly.

The book was heavy in her lap, but she didn't move it.

"Why won't you look at me?" he demanded.

She didn't answer at first. After a long pause, and he waited for it, she said, "It shames me to see your face." The hollow deadness in her voice was frightening, even to herself. "Is that what you need? Will that help? Tell me what to say for you to let go and I will say it."

"Stop it!" he cried and stormed over to her, hands on her shoulders. "Just stop! It doesn't have to be this way, Su. We could figure something out – I can fix this. You can't just throw away-"

Susan twisted out of his hold and pushed him back, getting to her feet. The book dropped to the floor with a dull clunk. "This isn't something you can fix, Peter! We're not who we once were and this is not the same world. Look at us! How old we are…brother and sister…we're disgusting!"

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT TO ME!" he roared savagely, and she involuntarily flinched in response. The deafening sound pierced her very being, causing her insides to roll in a way that made her want to cry and scream at the same time. There was a vacancy in her eyes as she watched his entire being trembled with rage and for a moment she almost believed he might strike her.

For a moment, she wished he would.

But he would never stoop to such a thing, no matter how deserving it was, and Susan damned him for it. "It's true and you know it as well as I do. You know what would happen to us if we were to continue! It cannot be! This isn't Narnia! That time is over for us. Just because you don't want to face the reality of-"

"Don't talk to me about _reality_ , Susan," he cut her off irately and took a deep, constrained breath. She could see how hard he was working to remain in control. "I know it will be different, more difficult, but you're my wife, my Queen, and I need you." The sternness of his voice faded and it became a plea, "I don't care for the worlds or the age. None of it matters. I just need you."

She chuckled bitterly. "Queen? I believe you're mistaken… _brother_. There is no Queen here. It's high time you realized that and stopped pestering me on the matter."

" _Pestering_ you?" he echoed in disbelief and took a step back as though she had physically dealt him a blow. The hardening that overcame his young face stung her deeply. With that one step, he reverted into her sibling and her lover vanished. "My apologies. I didn't realize I had become such a _nuisance_."

She sucked in a breath at the acrid edge in his voice.

"Well, I won't be of a bother to you any longer. We'll be outside if you change your mind."

And then he left and it was as though he took every ounce of strength she had with him. Shakily, Susan grappled for the window seat and collapsed onto the cushion. Edmund's voice filtered through the glass and she saw him shouting towards the house. The clouds had rolled back and the sun shone across the grounds, bringing out the rich, eternal greens and yellows of summer. Lucy came out like a shot, flying over the grass as quickly as her short little legs would take her. Susan reached up to press her finger against the pane; lightly she traced the outline of her young sister. Ed chased after her as she got further away, and then Peter stepped into view. His stride was slow and purposeful, with his head raised as he watched the younger two circle a nearby oak. His fair hair shone in the sunlight, a sight she had seen too many times to count and was no less breathtaking. She wept.

It was not in that silent way, with soundless tears and soft shudders, as you hold it in your throat till it aches. No. Susan bawled uncontrollably, her body convulsed with each wracking sob as it was ripped from her heart. The tears soaked her cheeks in an endless waterfall, staining her sleeves as she tried to wipe them away. After a while, she gave up trying and the salty liquid fell onto her collar. She cried until it hurt, and then cried even more. She cried until there were no more tears, and it became a dry heaving of harrowed sounds. With every hiccup, you knew how much agony it brought. If there had been anyone else in that house, just the very sound the heartrending cries would have brought them to tears as well. As it was, the house was empty, and Susan was alone.

* * *

She went to bed without a word to the others, refusing supper, and when Lucy crawled in to sleep, Susan kept her back to her, feigning slumber. Surely her sister would know what the puffy face and red rimmed eyes meant – and no one was to know that. Soon after the candle was extinguished, Lucy's breathing evened and Susan knew she had fallen asleep. Yet, sleep would not come for herself. After waiting for what felt like hours, the raven haired girl rose from the bed, slowly, so as not to wake her sister. She put her feet in the slippers that were placed at the side for convenience and snatched her robe from a nearby chair. In the dark, she walked down the carpeted hallway, tying the knot around her waist. Without conceiving a destination, she suddenly found herself there.

The door creaked as she pushed and Susan winced at the echoing sound that threatened alert the rest of the household. Once inside, she closed it gently until there was a final click. Turning around, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest at the sight.

"Oh!" she gasped and then swallowed hard, cursing herself for letting him surprise her like that.

Peter was sitting in the middle of the barren room, on the wooden floor with a blanket over his lap and pillows surrounding him. A solitary candle was erected before him and the lonely light licked across his face. The dark, rectangular shadow of that abominable wardrobe loomed behind him.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I don't know," he replied with a useless shrug of his shoulders. Susan had no doubt he was lying. "Why are you here?"

Frowning at him, she struggled with the right response. "I couldn't sleep," she said warily.

He nodded, taking in her answer with some unknown comprehension, and gazed up at her expectantly.

"I better go," she said, having recognized the look and was determined to refuse it. "We're not supposed to be wandering about at this hour. Mrs. Macready will be rabid if she catches us."

At her first step backward, Peter spoke up. "You came here for a reason," he said. "Just…stay awhile."

Rearing back with a few more steps, she couldn't have him draw her in like that. It was too risky. "It's late, Peter. I'll see you morning."

"I miss you."

Susan felt those three words acutely and pervasively, they seized control. Unbidden, love rampaged through her body, tearing down everything and anything that stood in its way, every weak wall, leaving it all as a mass wreckage. Every agonizing bit she had been working so futilely to forget leapt forth, freed from its tentative prison.

She didn't know if it was because of the proximity to the wardrobe, the closest they could ever get to who they used to be, or if it was simply a fault of weakness on her part.

Just for one night.

Susan woke before he did, gathered her things, and left in the cold, gray light of morning, while Peter still slept. Turned on his side and curled to the empty space she previously occupied. She didn't cry when leaving him, not even when she crept back into the bed she shared with Lucy. There were no more tears to be had. The walls went up again, fortified with more strength than before. That was the only time they made love in that world.

Any time after, Susan feigned ignorance when Peter brought it up. She claimed not to know what he was talking about, such a thing never happened. She ignored Peter's persistent advances and rebuffed every plea. Some days he would be furious with her, others he would be inconsolable. Sometimes they didn't speak to each other for weeks, going so far as to avoid being in the same room.

It was hard on Lucy and Edmund, to have their two eldest siblings so divided, but they understood. Peter and Susan had been Narnia's golden couple, the entire country rejoiced at the news of their wedding. They were so much in love, inseparable, and utterly besought with happiness.

That wasn't to say they didn't argue, because they did, and often. Peter had a loose tongue and tended to make rash decisions before thinking things through. Susan was incomparably stubborn, valued logic above all else, and had no qualms about making her opinions known. They were two fierce persons that were destined to clash just as they were destined to love. At least that was what Lucy thought. She embraced their union adoringly, unable to fathom any other course for them – it was perfectly natural. Edmund battled more with his acceptance of Peter and Susan's relationship, but ultimately he supported them because they were happy, happier than he had ever known them to be. He would do anything to keep them that way – no one was more deserving than the High King and Queen who so tirelessly devoted themselves to the protection and wellbeing of their people. The youngest two were rendered helpless as they stood by, watching as their siblings sunk deeper and deeper into the torment.

Susan resumed her old ways, spending time with Edmund and Lucy. Laughing with them, playing games, and watching over them. She still fretted and fussed in her motherly way, driving Edmund mad, but Lucy had learned to appreciate the care. It surprised them how quickly she made the change, from being a recluse to acting like her old self again. Her twelve-year old self. With each passing day, it became easier to push the memories of Narnia away and feel like age their bodies told. They didn't forget, but with time they were able to separate themselves from the adults they used to be.

It would have been just like old times, if it were not for the division between Peter and Susan. They rarely spoke to each other, outside of polite chatter. Peter often took it upon himself to remove himself from the group if Susan were there. If Peter, Edmund, and Lucy were together, Susan would not join them. The vast alteration of their family dynamics was difficult to adjust to, but over time they became accustomed to the behavior and even expected it. And that's how it was.

Eleven months later, they returned.


	2. Into the Woods

They rescued the D.L.F. She was holding her bow. They were trekking through the forest. The crisp, distinct scent of the air, the swish of her dress, the clanking of Peter and Edmund's swords… With each passing moment, it became more difficult, if not impossible, for Susan to believe that this was all just a very vivid dream. They were back in Narnia, but why? For what cause and for how long? It wouldn't last and she knew it. They could spend a day, a month, fifty years, and they would still be sent back. It was only a matter of time. It is a most unpleasant feeling, having to steel yourself for a jarring turn, waiting to see what lurked around every corner, behind every tree, underneath every brush, and keeping that way indefinitely.

Peter kept trying to pull her aside, he looked so hopeful – an unseen weight had been lifted off his shoulders. There was a spark of life in her brother Susan had not seen for a disturbingly long while. She hated it and brushed him away as firmly as she could without drawing attention. Nothing had changed. When Peter realized what she was telling him, he became withdrawn and ill-tempered. They couldn't converse in front of the others, so he was resigned to stalking out in front of them all, under the guise of leading the way. The D.L.F. tried to tell him he was going the wrong way, but Peter was beyond reason, outlandishly snapping at him. The lordly demeanor in which he spoke to them all with was infuriatingly condescending. She was tempted to admonish him for such egotistical behavior, but knew that no good would come of it. Edmund looked to Susan, wordlessly asking for her to step in and intervene, but she shook her head. It wasn't the time.

Annoyed, the boy turned back to his brother and reticently complied with his barking orders. A wisp of a bittersweet smile on Lucy's lips let Susan know that her sister had deciphered the cause of Peter's behavior, and the younger girl slipped her hand in Susan's, squeezing for comfort. Susan stared at her in wonder, amazed that Lucy was already returning to her more mature ways. In a year, Lucy had not aged as much as she grew in hours in Narnia. How was it possible to change so much, so quickly?

When Lucy cried "Aslan!", Susan nearly laughed. Some things never changed, and certainly not her sister's unfailing faith. There was no Aslan to be seen, and Susan chalked it up to the girl's overactive imagination. It happened.

So they journeyed on, their route cut off by the Telmarine army, and they were forced to double back. Lucy's clumsiness, though preceded by a terrifying four seconds, yielded a positive result as she discovered a path down the ravine. After an exhausting day of travel, they found a clearing and made camp for the night. Peter placed himself as far away as he could from her across the fire and quickly fell asleep. She caught a flash of pain in his eyes as he kneeled down and unwillingly peered at her out of the corner of his eye. Her heart ached at the sight, the pain might as well have been her own, but what was there to be done? Edmund began to snore lightly next to her head and she heard Lucy sigh. Shifting to her side, Susan watched the young girl unnoticed while her sister continued to stare at the stars.

As they made their way down into the gorge, the likelihood of Lucy somehow "seeing" Aslan paired with an accidental discovery of a safe pathway unknown to the rest, started to become circumspect. Susan ran through the possibilities in her mind and considered that perhaps Lucy had seen him after all. That recognition however brought forth a range of unanswered and somewhat disturbing questions. This certainly was not like their last foray into Narnia. Aslan had never hidden from them before. The questions burned inside her until she could no longer hold them back. Swallowing thickly, she worked up the courage to talk to her sister and tentatively asked Lucy if she was awake. At her sister's soft hum of acknowledgment, Susan ventured, "Why do you think I didn't see Aslan?"

Lucy sat up beside her in surprise. "You believe me?"

Susan explained her reasoning, and to that her sister became somewhat dejected. It wasn't the answer she had been hoping for. Lucy wanted blind faith, to match her own, but Susan had none to give.

"…I don't know," she puzzled. "Maybe you didn't really want to."

"You always knew we would be coming back here didn't you?" Susan resisted a bitter chuckle at her absurd question. Of course Lucy did, and she should have believed it herself, but it seemed so impossible, so unrealistic to wish for. After a while she had even managed to convince herself that dreaming of a return was too dangerous, it was not to be thought of.

"I hoped so," the younger girl replied.

Hope. Yes, that's what Susan lacked. She shifted and faced the black skies, folding her arm under her head for a pillow.

"I just got used to the idea of living in England," she sighed; a partial truth, which Lucy saw right through.

"But you're happy to be here, aren't you?"

Susan could hear the hinting in her voice, and purposefully ignored it. Lucy was young, she didn't understand, she didn't know how to prepare for the future as Susan had been so painfully forced to learn.

"While it lasts," she said sadly and looked away from her sister. She didn't want to talk about this anymore. They would be going home soon and none of it would matter.

But sleep refused to come.

* * *

After an eternity of willing herself to oblivion, her eyes snapped open in frustration. The fire had died down to glowing embers, and after a quick sweep of the dark surroundings, Susan knew she had to get away from there. Maybe a short walk would clear her head, and she could relax enough to sleep for a few hours.

The forest was surprisingly easy to navigate, bright beams of moonlight streamed through the trees, lighting her pathway better than any lantern could. Languidly, she weaved between the massive trunks and carefully lifted her dress as she stepped over raised roots and the odd underbrush. It felt strange not to have her quiver and bow strapped to her back, strange yet freeing. She wasn't the least bit afraid to wander through the woods alone; it seemed perfectly natural and comforting at the same time. When was the last time she had been able to do this? The very thought caused her to cringe as memories flooded her brain and she forced them back with all her might until they were caged once more. Those memories were far too dangerous. Leaves crunched underneath her feet, but then there was a sound out of step. Adrenaline seized her and she whirled around, her hand going to her waist and she seized Lucy's dagger, raising it to strike whatever enemy had dared.

Upon seeing his face, her anxiety dropped into a cold sense of terror. He didn't even raise in arms in defense, only stared at her angrily. Susan swallowed and backed away from him, lowering the borrowed dagger in the process.

"Peter…" she said awkwardly. "What are yo-"

"At least you're not daft enough to go off without a weapon," he cut her off bitterly.

"I'm hardly a fool," she shot back and her hand involuntarily gripped the jeweled hilt tighter, as though it would protect her from what was to come. Unwilling to tie herself down to her bow and arrow, she had pilfered Lucy's dagger whilst the girl slept. She didn't as much as stir in the process.

"Only a fool would wander off like that!"

Peter's cheeks were inflamed and his brow was drawn so deep, she wondered if it would ever right itself. Rarely did she ever see him display such anger, not in all their years together… He was not what you would call level-headed, certainly not. Edmund became the calm and serious one, and though Peter was a natural leader, he tended to be hotheaded, reeled in only by his siblings.

As time passed, it soon became apparent to all that Susan was the one most effective at pacifying him. Edmund noted one day to Lucy, that it went both ways, Susan was best able to soothe him, but on the other hand, she was also the most skilled in provoking him. Peter was never as easily incensed as when Susan was involved. Though despite their numerous altercations, each one varying in degrees of severity, it was nothing compared to what she saw from him now. All their arguments, all the pain, it seemed to have coalesced into a burning rage, spiraling out of control inside of him. He was so angry, and so hurt - because of her yet again. She didn't deserve such power over him.

"What do you think you're doing? Where's your head, Susan!" His teeth gnashed furiously. "You walk off in the middle of the night, untold danger surrounding us, with just a small dagger to your defense? Do you have a death wish?"

His hateful gaze burned holes into her and Susan knew that it wasn't hate at all.

"I needed a moment alone," she said evenly, making every effort not to let it show how his rancor truly affected her.

"Oh, well as long as you have a _reason_ …" he spat derisively.

"Did you just come out here to bellow? If so, you can just leave."

"I WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU!" he roared incredulously. "Perhaps next time I should leave you to your death!"

"PERHAPS YOU SHOULD!"

Peter balked in horror. His anger deflated so rapidly there was a sense of surrealism to it. Susan swallowed thickly at the abrupt metamorphosis of their exchange, all the fire seemed to drain out of him, leaving a hollow, lifeless shell in its place. He knew she meant every word of it.

"Susan…" he murmured brokenly, hanging his head.

Her stomach lurched at the despondency in his voice, abhorring every syllable, and she prayed that he would go back to being angry with her. Anything was better than this sadness.

"There's nothing to say, Peter," she said quickly and moved even further away.

He shook his head. "I want you to stop lying to me."

"I'm n-" she began to protest but Peter refused.

"I deserve more than that, Su. And you know it, so j-just tell me the truth and we can stop this once and for all."

Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously. As it was, no words would come either. They gazed at each other in silence through the darkness; the moonlight lit their pale skin aglow. The forest was quiet with only an occasional rustle of the trees and a chirp in the distance.

"It's okay," he said at last. "I understand. I-I need to hear you say it though. You have to… you have to say the words so I can…"

"I don't-"

"Just say that you don't love me anymore. It's not about Narnia or home, the world we're in. It never was. How could it be? We're here again and yet you still…" his voice cracked. "You just fell out of love with me, that's all, a-and it's okay. That is, I will be okay. My feelings haven't changed, but I could never wish for you to be with someone you don't… You deserve to be happy. But no more lies or excuses, let's just have it said and done."

There was nothing in her to reply. Peter might as well have run her through. In all of her efforts, to stay away, to forget, to convince herself that she longer loved nor needed him… never did she consider the possibility that she would succeed in convincing _him_. Peter truly believed she no longer loved him. A fist curled around her heart, squeezing till she could no longer breathe and stars appeared before her eyes. How dare she cause him such pain? How dare she think she had a choice?

Her grip on the hilt of the dagger grew so painful she had to force her hand to release it in a mechanical gesture. Sliding it back into band at her waist, she stayed away from Peter's eyes for as long as she could. She didn't want to see him anymore, his face…his beautiful, kind face…caused her more agony than she could endure. Knowing that it was inescapable, she reluctantly let herself see him once again and what she was given was no less terrifying.

He wasn't looking at her, or at least not directly. At first she thought there was an insect of some sort on her dress and was about to make a move to swat it away when she realized, with a sound blow, it was her hand he was fixated upon.

The feeling that came over her was too strange and conflicted to describe. She was angry, with him, with herself. She was afraid – how much more strength did she have left within her to deny him. And then there was a burrowing little piece of relief…of terrifying joy. At last he found a way to hear her without having to say a word; a final confirmation that which no empty protests or refusals could tear apart.

He saw her wedding ring.

"Su…" he groaned and tears filled his eyes. He didn't seem to be able to do much else at the moment, unwilling to look away from the ornate golden band that weaved its way around her finger. The one he had placed on her himself so many years ago, the very symbol of their pledge to love for as long as they both lived and beyond. He whispered her name again and again, unable to believe it and inching closer with every breath. Her heart beat wildly against her chest. Each time he uttered it was like a hammer striking a blow, her defenses being chipped away and she was able to do nothing to stop it. Did she really want to?

Peter never asked what happened to it, assuming that it had been lost. Shockingly, his ring made it through with them; it was their only concrete evidence of a land and lifetime of Narnia. No one could understand why that was the only object that transitioned. Edmund once complained about Peter getting to keep his ring whereas he had to lose his favorite sword. His eldest brother's whipping rage as a response was enough to make him never broach the subject again. Peter wore it in the weeks after their return, but Susan was so hurt every time she saw it that it caused her to lash out against him even more brutally. Not long after, the gold disappeared from his finger and with it any shred of belief that their love wasn't more than a fading memory.

She never told him that she hadn't been wearing her ring that day. That it had been left behind for a routine polish when they rode out in search for the White Stag. Susan knew that, in his darkest thoughts, Peter believed that she had thrown her ring away in haste to be rid of him along with the life they shared. That she had tossed it out like yesterday's trash, just as he believed she had so easily forsaken them.

It tore at her insides to allow him to think such abhorrently untrue things, but it was for the best, she had reasoned with herself. For the best. The best for whom?

When they discovered the treasure room, Susan found many of her belongings unscathed. Tangible evidence of a life she worked tirelessly to deny existence. Fingering her old dresses, the lovely jewels, her aged quiver… it was as though she were touching a dream where dreams ought not be touched.

Lucy was delighted to find her coronation ring, and in searching for her own, Susan unexpectedly found something far more revered. It was as though the ring possessed a magic current - calling for her and through no fault of her own; she slipped the band on her finger and nearly cried at how wholly right it felt to have that missing part of her there once again, that much closer to being complete. At home, she never could stop herself from reaching to twirl it round her finger, to feel comforted by the solid, smooth touch, and each time was a new discovery with a familiar anguish when it wasn't there.

The others never noticed her absorption, and quickly she put on her coronation ring as well, so as not to alert anyone. She knew she shouldn't have done it, and after she slipped it on, she knew she shouldn't wear it, but by then it had already melded back into her. There was no going back.

His touch startled her. It had been a very conscious, precise effort in those long months to avoid even the slightest brush, knowing what it would do to her. To feel him again, his rough hand entwining hers as they had done countless times before, was a visceral shock to her entire system. Before she had been hazy, dull, aching…now everything came to life, bursting with blinding, uncomfortable color. He brought her hand up to his lips, kissing their ring, and she jerked away, but it was too late. His mouth met hers in a crushing embrace, parting and begging. Any sense of thought or control flew from her realm as she pressed into him and opened to receive his searching tongue. It was a frantic and incoherent need as they clung to each other, finding what had been thought lost. He tasted so good, he felt so right, a sob wrenched from her gut, and Susan shoved him away hard.

"No, I won-"

She didn't even get to finish before he had pulled her back, ignoring her weeping protest.

"It's going to be alright, Su," he held her head between his hands, brushing away her tears with the pad of his thumb. "Stop trying to make me go away, it won't happen. Ever."

"Peter, I won't do this again!" she said, crying harder now, and pushed his arms down.

This wasn't going to happen. No! It couldn't! Why was she so weak?

Susan stepped backwards, anything to put distance between them, anything to help her find stability. All she had right now was a floor of quicksand, and the more she struggled, the further she was sucked in. Peter knew what she was trying to do and refused to let her break apart. He was more determined now than he had been when they first fell out of the wardrobe. The only thing that had kept him from so adamantly pursuing her was the possibility that she meant what she said, that she didn't want to be with him, didn't love him…hated him even. He didn't want to believe it, but some days… some hours… yes, he did let those thoughts beat him – if only for a moment. Seeing her wedding ring, her wordless affirmation of what was within; there was nothing that would keep him from her. All she ever had to do was want him in return.

As he moved forward, she continued to stumble back until the coarse bark of a tree scraped against her shoulders. With a gasp, she realized that he had her trapped, using his body to prevent her from trying to escape. He pressed into her, his arms curling around her into a fierce, but forgiving hold.

"Peter…" Weakly, she struggled against him and then slackened in defeat. Tears streamed unbidden down her reddened face. "I can't bear to lose you again," she whispered brokenly into his chest. "Please don't ask me to."

"It's not going to be like that," he rumbled against her ear and then brought his lips across her wet cheeks, kissing away the salty moisture in a sweet, gentle comfort. "Tell me that you love me, and I swear to you, we will find a way. Whether it's here or in England-"

"There is no way!" she burst out.

"Do you love me?" he pressed determinedly.

Her shoulders shook with sobs.

"Susan…" he said again with dogged effort. "Do you love me?"

From the moment she put on her ring, Susan knew that she had lost her war.

"Yes," she admitted hoarsely and the tears subsided. A switch had been thrown, but she knew not what it was. Looking up at him, red-eyed and utterly beaten, she said, "I've always loved you. I don't think there's a way to stop."

Bursting with restrained happiness, a light broke over his face in the darkened forest, and this time, she didn't despise him for it.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered, mostly for herself. "It won't work! We don't know how long we'll be here. And when we go back…"

Peter shook his head, quickly dismissing the negative thoughts. They had no place right then.

"Let us be happy," he implored her.

He was so eager, so relieved, she couldn't help but allow him his request.

Let them be happy…if only for a little while.

His mouth melded with hers again, a slow, unhurried exploration, contrasted with the crazed urgency he had attacked her with before. Susan sighed into him, soft and pliant in his arms as he held her. Her hands slid into his hair and their lips parted again and again to match the other. In mere hours, Narnia had aged them once again and Susan marveled at the broadness of Peter's shoulders, his stronger, leaner form, transforming him that much closer to the familiar.

As slow as they started, the time apart proved to be too much. They needed more, and they needed it now. A heavy sound escaped him, a cross between and growl and a moan, a sound that only she could elicit and was meant for only her. He sucked hard on her throat, flicking his tongue over her sweet skin, and fire flooded her body. Coming back up, he caught her in a scorching kiss, sweeping his tongue deep into her mouth. Absolute in every form, he always knew where to touch her, how to love her. The way their bodies always fit with such flawless precision, whole together and halves apart, perhaps it was some cruel game destiny played on them; designing them for each other only to do everything possible to force them apart in a polar magnetized world.

He shoved her dress up, gripping her bare thighs tightly, and tore away her undergarments, leaving her bare to him. His fingers darted down to stroke her outer folds.

Susan moaned, she didn't want to be teased – she wanted completion, satisfaction, and she wanted it now. Picking up on this, Peter wholeheartedly agreed and dipped inside to caress the sopping, swollen flesh of her core, "God, Su, you're so wet…" he groaned in a strangled sort of utterance, as though someone were holding their forearm to his windpipe. She throbbed around him and he stroked rhythmically before touching upon the flash point of desire.

With a gasp, Susan arched against him, throwing her head back against the tree trunk and hissed, "Do it."

It wasn't a time for tenderness or slow lovemaking. This was about fulfilling their most base desires, consummating the needs that had been too long denied. It was a frenzied and utterly animalistic ritual, fueled by frustration, lust, grief, and above all else, love. It was about reclaiming what was so unjustly torn away.

Obeying his lover's demand, Peter quickly undid his trousers and plunged inside her without mercy, they both moaned at the contact, each experiencing a form of lustral power at being physically joined again in the deepest way possible. Oh, it had been too long. Slick with honeyed desire, her walls encased him tightly, stretching to accommodate the familiar, welcome width. Susan brushed open mouthed kisses across his cheek, wrapping around him more securely as he thrust into her. Harder, she needed it harder.

Each fierce movement fed the unrestrained swell and they escalated with blinding speed, carnal lust screaming from every angle. Peter pressed his lips to her throat, inhaling her intoxicating scent. Susan keened and grasped desperately at him, she had to be closer, needing him with her, needing to touch every part of him. Months of deprivation made for sheer sensory overload and she could not bear the storm of sensations nor could she refuse it. She found his mouth in a hungry kiss, greedily delving in to taste, tease, and pleasure.

Cupping her bottom, Peter shoved her higher and savagely crushed her into his pelvis. Shocked, Susan's eyes flew open with a gasp. The abrupt change rocketed new stimulation, the angle caused him to brush against different pleasure points. Ecstasy in its purest form overwhelmed her and Susan was sent careening into the shuddering abyss calling his name. Unable to restrain himself a second longer, Peter drove into her frantically and sobbed his orgasmic release. Utterly spent, in so many more ways than one, he fell limp against her, and the tree was the only thing holding them both up.

Panting hard, Susan struggled to regain control of her body. Her entire body trembling, she carefully unwound her legs from his waist and searched for the solid ground; feeling unsteady and untrusting in the way one would after an earthquake. How do you trust the ground again after it had been so violently shaken?

Peter uttered a soft whimper, "Su?", and tentatively moved away enough so that he could see her face.

"I'm here," she whispered and kissed him, lingering sweetly on his swollen lips. She smiled despite herself, they were swollen by her doing. "I'm still here."

Clutching desperately, he buried his face in her now wild hair and cried.


	3. A Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As seen in Chapter 2, I wanted to say that Susan's wedding ring is semi-movie!canon. (A stretch, but who cares?) In the movie, if you look at Susan's left hand after they change into their old clothes, both she and Lucy are wearing their coronation rings. However! Unlike Lucy, Susan has a second ring, a gold band, around her wedding ring finger. Don't believe me? Go look for yourself! You be the judge! If you really need a picture as proof, I'll happily offer one. Haha. :)

He shuddered in her arms and his grip was bordering on painful, but she couldn't have cared less about that. If there were bruises, she knew she would never love a discolored mark more. She tried to return his ferocious hold as best she could and scattered kisses to his hair and down his cheek, neck, shoulders, anywhere she could reach. Murmuring nonsensical words of comfort, she tried to soothe him, bring him down with loving words and a powerful embrace – to make him safe.

Peter always worked so hard to be brave, valiant…protecting. It was a role he should not have had to take, but did it exceedingly well, and with pride. Still, how could anyone expect him to be forever a protector, ever the leader? He was still Peter – still hers. Unfortunately, he was so skilled at his guise that she was ashamed to admit that she too was blinded on occasion. He wasn't invulnerable, no matter how hard he tried to persuade them as such, and she let herself forget that crucial fact. All these months, she had taken their pain, and the decision to do what was right, upon herself. She knew he was hurting, but reasoned that he would soon heal. An uncomfortable wave of guilt rocked her body. What right did she have to make such a call? How could she have forgotten that Peter needed her perhaps just as much as she needed him?

He leaned into her and she felt his lips at her throat. Lovingly, she stroked his shoulders with one hand and the other went to his hidden face. With tender care, she urged him back, and he followed with tearstained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

"Come on," she said gently with an encouraging smile. "We must get back before the others notice we are missing."

Nodding in reluctant agreement, he stiffly released her, and fumbled to right his trousers. With absolutely no hesitation on her part, Susan found her hands going to his waistband and helped him buckle it again. Peter swallowed hard and stared at her as she worked diligently to fix it and ultimately let her do it for him. She was glad that her hair had fallen over her face so that he would not see her laughing smile at the recollection of fond memories brought forth by this very gesture – he always thought it so amusing when she was too impatient for him to dress and often ended up doing it herself.

When she moved to start their walk back, he held her in place. With a sigh, Susan turned to him. He didn't have to tell her what was wrong, she knew. He was afraid.

"We have to," she said.

"I don't… I'm…" he struggled to say and could not place it well enough for his own standards.

Susan circled her arms around his waist and hugged him. She felt his harsh exhale and then he reciprocated with relief.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," she replied and held him tighter.

There would be no better time to tell him, no easy way to voice it, but she must. She only hoped he would understand and forgive her for it. Tilting her head to the side, so that their cheeks were touching, she summoned her courage and said, "Peter…we can't tell the others yet."

As expected, he jerked away from her, a stricken look on his face. "What?"

"I'm not ready!" she explained pleadingly. "It's too soon. I can't have everyone looking at us…"

"But they won't care!" he insisted. "We don't have to hide-"

"It won't be for forever," she cut him off. "I just need some time. That's all. Please, just for a little while."

She could see the muscles in his jaw clench as he fought an unseen battle within. She had hurt him again, but it was unavoidable. It was too much to have them strutting around as though nothing had changed at all. They _had_ changed! The Narnia they knew was gone. She was barely coping having broken her own solemn vow to never allow them to be again – and now she was supposed to forget everything? It had to stop – everything had to stop! Just freeze the world until she could catch her breath and then perhaps slowly ease on. Her head was swimming with all these abrupt, violent sways – Susan wanted peace, a chance to put herself together. And for that, she needed time.

"Okay," he said at last, his voice sounding oddly strained. "We don't have to tell anyone yet."

"Thank you," she said in appreciation.

Once the immediate pressure was off, she was that much more at ease. After a moment of internal debate, her tentative lean towards him was unsure of what response it would be met with. Peter seemed alleviated by her gesture, finding it a reassurance that she had not run from him again, and they met in a deep, slow kiss that never would have ended had they known how long it would be until their next one.

Hand in hand, they walked back through the forest until they reached the clearing. Wisps of smoke rose from the burned out embers, almost completely extinguished of its warmth by now. Peter squeezed her hand, looking to her for reassurance yet again. She hoped her expression had been enough and fleetingly trailed her fingers over his chest before letting go in entirety. He looked distressed by the loss of contact, but allowed it. They lay down in their respective places, the vast amount of space between them was confusing and stirred feelings of unease within her, but Susan chose not to pay attention to it. Lucy's dagger was returned to its rightful place without incident and she laid down, using her arm once again as a pillow, and willed herself not to dwell on what would have made a better one. Edmund was still snoring.

* * *

Susan soon fell into a restless sleep, but Peter remained awake. Worry, fear, terror, all of it, compounded his body and soul. So he had her again, but for how long? How long until she convinced herself yet again that they could not be? He would go to the ends of the earth to fight for her, but to fight against her very self? Time might prove that it was the one battle he could not win. Damned if he wouldn't die trying.

It physically hurt to be separated from her like this…how could they be so joined and now lie so unassumingly out of reach? He should be holding her right now! Feeling her move against him gently in slumber, their shared bodily warmth, his lover's heady scent surrounding him, but no, he was forced away once more at her behest.

He couldn't sleep – refused to sleep. A notion, however absurd, pushed upon him that if he were to sleep, he would wake to something else entirely. Not that it would turn to be a dream, because he was well assured of that falsity, but that something would happen, something would change, and he wouldn't be there to stop it. He HAD to stay awake, had to fight to keep what he so tentatively had achieved thus far. Nothing could keep him from Susan, he promised her that.

The skies began to lighten, and her name was whispered across the fire. At first he thought he was imagining it, having been made delirious from exhaustion, but then he heard Susan's mumbles.

Lifting his head, Peter was just in time to see Lucy disappear into the forest. 'What was with these girls and wandering off alone', he grumbled silently.

* * *

Susan woke to Edmund kicking at her impatiently.

Outraged by the rude awakening, she opened her mouth to yell at him, when he beat her to the punch.

"Peter and Lucy have gone."

A frozen hand shoved inside her chest and her eyes went wide. She turned to see Trumpkin putting on his bow in a hurry. With a quick glance up at Edmunds worried face, she leapt to her feet with set determination and quickly snatched her own things before they went off to find the missing two.

With every minute that passed and Peter and Lucy were not found, Susan grew paler and paler. Though her blood grew cold, her heart continued to beat madly against her breast. Suddenly, all three heard Lucy's faint cry.

"No, stop!"

Susan didn't think she had ever run faster before in her life…either of them. When she got close, beating even Edmund there, her terror bubbled over and she couldn't help the panicked cry.

"PETER!"

As soon as his face came into view, she was bombarded with an inordinate sense of relief, just seeing him unharmed was more gift than she could ever desire (despite his being surrounded by armed Narnians). He could see her alarm and nodded gently to assuage her fears.

It was only then that she truly realized the strange situation they had stumbled upon. With a quick note of gratitude, she saw that Lucy was safe at her side. The odd band of weapon carrying creatures surrounded them imposingly – dwarves, centaurs, minotaurs, and fauns alike stood side by side. It took her longer than it should have to realize there was a man at the end of the sword held at Peter's throat. When he spoke with a light, accented voice, she realized he was a Telmarine.

"High King Peter?"

"I believe you called."

So it _was_ the Caspian that Trumpkin spoke of. How peculiar. For some reason she had pictured an entirely different person. Younger…blonde even…

The Prince was rather taken aback by their arrival, and looked over them strangely. His gaze landed on her with an expression she knew aberrantly well from her years of being courted by suitors. It was difficult not to laugh at the reminder, and she glanced at Peter who was incensed by Caspian's blatant ogling. They shared a knowing look and she prayed she hadn't smiled; it would have been much too obvious. With dismay, she noticed that Caspian had yet to stop staring, and groaned inwardly.

That was going to be a problem.

* * *

Peter went out ahead with Caspian, discussing the state of affairs, what conditions they were met with, who they were fighting, numbers, tactics, etc. Edmund walked beside her in silence and she was grateful for it. Talking was not a viable task at the moment. She tilted her head back to the forest overhead, the sun glinting through the trees. Peter's voice drifted faintly and she could tell that already he despised Caspian. Actually, she had seen that the moment she laid eyes on them facing off in the clearing. During their exchange, he was sniping and making underhanded comments in an unusually abrasive way for Peter.

There was something he felt he needed to prove, his superiority in some form, but had their year astray rendered Peter so misplaced? He never harbored such compulsion to prove his own hierarchy, but then she thought, he never had to worry about that before. Back then his place was concrete, set in stone by Aslan's own decree. Now…why were they there? And in what nature? Was he still High King? Were they still Narnia's sovereigns? Or was this Prince to take their thrones as surely many have done for their years in absentia.

The D.L.F. muttered behind them and when Susan caught wind, she looked to Edmund and he returned the smile.

* * *

Nostalgia welled inside her and with it came a particular brand of happiness and belonging she had since missed. England never gave her such a concrete sense of rightness…that she was exactly where she was meant to be… who she was meant to be. Her vision flickered before her eyes, to the hundreds of times past they had made similar approaches, only then they were hand in hand, proud, confident, and fierce in their fortified union – a perfect equation completed with their siblings at their sides. Always four. Always two.

They passed under the glinting blades and she just barely resisted the urge to take his hand as it swung so tantalizingly close beside her – to fulfill their homecoming the way it should be.

As it was, she could not cross the chasm.

It was unbearably hot when they entered the How, crashing and banging from every corner as the Narnians fortified their weapons and prepared for war; the sight of which she was hardly unaccustomed. An acrid smoke from the dozens of smithery fires burned her nostrils and breathing soon became a luxury.

Lucy wandered off deeper inside and eagerly she followed, there was a sense of desperation in her to be removed from the stifling crowd. Being boxed and shoved by a hundred Narnians was not something she could quite handle at the present time. They found a several cave-like tunnels, leading in all directions. At random, Lucy picked one and off they went. Susan didn't care where they were going, anything was better than that central dwelling…all those people. A dank, cool air blew over them from the unknown cavernous depths and her eyes fell closed. It helped.

The drawings were Lucy's discovery and Susan knew not what to make of it. Her fingers trailed over the rough, gritty stone, tracing her own depiction. Rather than puzzle it out alone, she knew she had to have someone else there. In return for that small acknowledgement her head screamed at her for being such a fool.

One solitary moment with Peter and she had crumbled to pieces – mere hours later she was exactly where she started, unconsciously reaching out for her other half and feeling no moment complete were he not there to share it. If she lacked even the slightest sense, she would have had a fit, beating her fists against the cavern walls, but as it was, decorum held her at bay. She refused to throw a tantrum, rendering her no better than an ill-tempered child.

Lucy turned up to her in wonder, but Susan was already going back – feet leading where her head implored her not to go.

"Peter," her voice cut through the din. "You may want to see this."

How was she to come back from this?

* * *

It should have been more comforting – to see it again – but it had just the opposite effect. Despite the fire surrounding the room, she felt cold. It all seemed so foreign, utterly unknown. Was it really the same one? Such gray, hazy memories… Then Lucy touched the ancient stone and every single moment of that night and its dawn came rushing back in. Every word, every embrace, every tear, and every solitary drop of grief they shared that terrible, fated night .

"He must know what he's doing," her little sister whispered, half out of hope, half out of surety.

The great Lion stared down at them and she could feel his heavy gaze upon her heart. How could she deny it any longer? She had witnessed his rise as well as his fall. Why was it so hard to remember? To believe?

"I think it's up to us now," his voice pierced her achingly and she turned to face him.

It was unsettling to see her lover so divided – he was angry with Aslan, not for the same reasons she was, but there all the same. Peter felt betrayed, to be sent away without so much as a warning, cast out from their lives as though they meant nothing at all. Now, she could see it as plainly as she saw the torch in hand. He wanted to prove that he could do it without him – that he was not in the Lion's control.

He left and she did not follow. It didn't matter how badly she wanted to be with him, the uncomfortable longing that plagued her, there was nothing to be gained. Edmund joined his brother and Lucy went off exploring the rest of the How after lingering over the Stone Table. Seizing her chance to be alone, Susan made her way down one of the many other tunnels and found a small, empty chamber - dimly lit, but it was more than enough.

A heavy sigh compressed from her lungs and she collapsed onto one of the boulders that appeared to have been used as a chair before. Removing her quiver, she placed it carefully at her side along with her bow and stretched muscles that felt like they hadn't budged since the train station. With her arms extended in front of her, flickering firelight caught the gold band and her shoulders slumped as though under the weight of a thousand men.

Peter may be angry with Aslan for sending them away from Narnia, but she was angry for having ever been brought there.

If they had never gone, never stumbled through the wardrobe, then they never would have had to endure this pain. If you do not know love, then you cannot feel its agony.

Perhaps one day she would succeed – the very notion stirring outraged, terrified cries from her soul - yes, maybe someday.

Though it was surely not going to happen today, today she couldn't even keep the flashes of their meeting last night out of her head. Every few minutes she was blindsided by an intense surge through her body, his strong hands grasping the flesh of her hips, his breath hot on her throat, keening as he drove deep inside her, then she would snap back to the present seeing that less than half a second had passed - left weary and burning with shame.

She never knew he entered the room, only being alerted to his presence by a polite throat clearing. Startled, her stomach leapt into her chest and her fleeting frown was inevitable. She only hoped he would not take offense, but did not find it overly worrisome if he should.

"Is everything alright?" Prince Caspian asked kindly.

Categorically not.

"Absolutely," she plastered a false smile on her face and wanted nothing more than for him to leave her be.

Obviously, the Prince had no plan to do anything of the sort and he made a gentlemanly inquiry to join her. Susan ran through all the options at that point, desperately seeking any feasible way to decline without appearing horrid, but she could find none. Beaten, she gave him a slight nod and he awkwardly sat down beside her. Rolling her eyes, she shifted away - there was no patience left in her for this.

It was only when his eyes were directed downward that she realized she had been playing with her ring. A visible wave of dejection washed over him and his soft sigh nearly caused an audible groan on her part.

"So, I see it is true after all. You are married to the High King?"

A shudder swept through her, it was so long since she heard it out loud. How torturous and wonderful it was… Scrambling to keep her composure, she fell back into a time-honored sharpness and curtly replied, "You claim to know all about us and yet this comes as a surprise?"

Against her deliberate intention, he smiled. "I hardly know everything there is to know about you, your highness... No one seemed to know for sure. It had been merely a rumor, met with great conflict and dissent as years faded."

"Conflict?" she echoed and scoffed bitterly. "Fitting."

Finding a jutting rock from the wall to fixate upon, she would have forgotten Caspian's presence entirely after that, but he spoke again and she was called into courtesy to hear. After all, were they not there to help him?

"And, if I do not appear untoward," he ventured nervously, "perhaps it was a rumor I hoped to find in error."

There it was, albeit sooner than she had anticipated. He had taken the tension between her and Peter, the division, as a sign that was somehow in his favor. How utterly simplistic – she wished it were that easy. Well, she could ignore the hinting, of course, pretend as though nothing had been said. It was innocuous enough to pass over - but the thought of letting it stand was intolerable.

A sense of unknown power filled her, giving strength and decidedness in a way she had not felt since…well, she could not recall. Leveling her gaze at the Telmarine Prince, she looked at him straightforwardly for the first time and saw the light of hope glimmer in his eyes.

"And you are disappointed?" she inquired.

He struggled not to show his excitement at her attention and responded in earnest, "Entirely."

Susan leaned in carefully, never letting her gaze waver so that there would be no mistaking her intentions.

"I am not."

It was as simple a declaration as she could make, but was no less clear in communicating to the Prince where her heart lied and he could never be.

At first he blinked back his astonishment, it was not what he was expecting, and then swallowed thickly as the sting of rejection found its place. Susan only looked on at him placidly, he seemed like a sweet man (slightly naïve as a fault), but there was naught to be done about it. Bravely, he gathered himself and with a nod of disheartened understanding, Caspian got to his feet and bowed respectfully before taking his leave.

On his way out, he passed by Peter with whom he shared a glance of acknowledgement before rushing on in his haste to be removed from the site of his downfall. She watched him go with a forlorn sort of apathy coiled with pity until Peter came into view and Caspian was presently wiped from her thoughts.

Her stomach fluttered at the sight of him and a burst of excitement exploded from her middle to reach the very tips of her fingers and toes. Instantly, she recoiled from the headiness he elicited and chided herself. She couldn't be so happy to see him…could she? To be perfectly honest, she had no idea what to do, much less how to be.

But her inner colloquy was for naught – Peter had already made the decision for them. Not daring to step foot into the chamber; he fenced himself at the entryway with a scowl. It took a moment to process the coldness in him and she was taken aback. What could have been done to anger him this way so soon?

Then it clicked into place, the low-lit room, alone with Caspian, the connotations of such pieces fitted together… Absolutely floored, she knew not whether to reprimand him for jumping to such conclusions or simply burst out laughing - the urges were simultaneous. Before she could open her mouth to do either, he beat her to it.

"We're gathering to strategize the next course of action," he said coolly. "We've been sighted."

With that, he turned around and stormed off.

"Peter!" she cried after him incredulously. "Wait!"

Bewilderment soon faded and was replaced with irritation. He couldn't possibly think… Caspian? After what they shared last night! Did he truly think so little of her?

Peter had always suffered a bit from jealousy, but he usually kept it in check as she agreed to do in return (there were many young, beautiful females flitting about the palace in the old days). Had all trust in each other been forsaken? She never betrayed him with another!

While it wasn't a lie, it was hardly the truth either. Betrayal had many forms and hers was that of abandonment – wholly and completely. Perhaps that was worse than if she had been in another's arms.

Her bow and quiver were haphazardly gathered and she stepped quickly down the tunnel, hoping to catch him in time, to explain (and give him a thorough tongue-lashing for being so insensible), but he was nowhere to be found. She frowned and put on her things once more, securing them tightly before heading off to find the others. There really was no imperative cause for concern; it would be sorted soon enough.


	4. For Fools Rush In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in seeing HQ pictures of Susan with the "mystery" ring in 'Prince Caspian,' send me a message!

Finally, she came across Edmund, who led them both back to the large chamber. There were already a number of Narnians filling the previously empty space. Lucy lay naturally atop the Stone Table with her legs folded. Everyone else shied away considerably from it, an imaginary force field surrounding the ancient stone. Lucy was the only one who could ever be worthy enough to have such easy contact with the consecrated object, her rightful kinship through its cracked center.

Susan had yet to lay a hand upon it.

It wasn't until the chamber was fully crowded that Peter showed. Instantly, she went forward to speak with him, hoping to have a moment before he addressed the group, but he brushed right past her without a word or a glance.

The aforementioned irritation escalated into a maddening boil and she glowered at his back. What a thick-headed fool he was being! Any desire to rectify his misconception was tossed aside. So be it then! She stalked over to an empty space in the room. If he wanted to be a stubborn nitwit then he could go right on ahead! She wouldn't dare stop him.

As he spoke, she found herself growing more and more uneasy. Such recklessness! Such unnecessary risk! They hardly knew who they were facing, barely assembled an army, and not even an army at that. What he was proposing…it was foolhardy, even by Peter's standards. He took chances before to be sure, but this was different and she didn't know why.

The Prince apparently agreed with her, speaking out against Peter. It was in his face though, the same determined expression, he didn't care what anyone else thought. The decision had been made – this gathering wasn't to offer up a debate, it was to announce his plan. Damn his arrogance for rearing its ugly head at this time.

Caspian suggested using the How to their advantage – a far safer route in her mind than the siege Peter was plotting.

"If we dig in, we could probably hold them off indefinitely," she heard herself interject.

Both men turned to her in surprise; Caspian amazed by her support and somewhat dumbfounded (as well he should be), and Peter... even more than she felt his fury, she felt his pain. In his eyes, she had betrayed him yet again.

Pleadingly, she looked to him, willed him to understand. As much as she loved him and would stand by his side through anything, she couldn't agree to this – not when she felt so strongly that it would be a mistake.

It was too late though, the damage was done. He refused to look at her anymore.

And now he listened to no one.

Lucy disagreed with them all, and Peter turned his back on her, a sight Susan took with alarm. Peter and Lucy were rarely at odds – she was his darling little sister, never to do any harm. They rarely argued, not like Lucy did with Edmund (those two went on for days). To see him so blatantly disregard her, Susan knew that something was very, very wrong with her lover.

The High King took his leave, and Caspian glanced at her shyly from the corner of his eye. Gritting her teeth, she wondered just what it was she had done to deserve this.

Then she remembered.

* * *

It wasn't until they all left the How, that she managed to get close enough to Peter for a conversation. Still, he didn't seem all that keen on speaking to her. Why hadn't he been this distant when they were in England? He would simply absorb whatever she threw at him, every cruel word, every vicious exchange, and it maddened her.

All she had wanted was for him to hate her. That way it would have been easier for them – she wouldn't have had to keep hurting him. Yet nothing…

And now!

After months of deprivation, she let him needle his way into breaking down the barriers she so carefully placed, tentatively let him back into her heart, and wholly allowed him into her body! He was going to hate her NOW! She could make no sense of it. Every acerbic glance was felt as stingingly as a slap to her face.

Caspian was a few paces ahead and Peter hadn't taken his eyes off him, boring dark holes into the Prince's back.

"Do stop glowering at him like that. You're making a fool of yourself," she muttered.

"I don't like the way he looks at you," Peter spat. She was a little surprised he even bothered to respond. "It's disrespectful."

"And just what would you have us do? Remove his eyes?"

"You jest…" he shook his head, indicating that was a fair idea in his mind.

"Peter!" she exclaimed reprovingly.

The night air hit them, but unfortunately without a wind of reason. Susan noticed the group of gryphons gathered in the field, but Peter held her attention above all else.

"You sided with him!" he said in a vehement whisper, unable to contain himself any longer. "In front of everyone!"

"So that's what this is about - what everyone else thinks? Did our fearless leader lose face?" she returned mockingly.

He closed the distance between them in a flash, curbing them to a sudden halt. It His ferocity caught her off guard, a jarring shock to her system. Had he frightened her? The concept sounded so very wrong. She was never frightened of Peter.

Then why was she so thrown?

Staring down angrily, he said with poorly masked rancor, "You _chose_ him! Him over me. ME!"

Despite how he unnerved her, she replied calmly in a similar low, hushed tone, so as not to attract undue amounts of attention, "You and I have never agreed when it comes to war. Why would that suddenly change now? I didn't _choose_ him over you, you're being irrational! Caspian merely spoke what I had already been thinking. I wanted to be safer, but no, _you_ insisted on this half-cocked venture. I can only hope we will not regret it."

That struck a heavy blow, and he pulled back from her woundedly. Immediately, Susan regretted her severity. It may have been the truth, but it certainly did not need to be delivered so. He stalked off without another word and she growled in exasperation, partially with him, partially with herself.

The time for bickering was over, they needed to unite and focus on the task at hand, for it was surely a treacherous one if everything did not proceed in strict adherence to their plan. Suddenly, she realized that there was a large gryphon standing awkwardly in front of her.

"Oh!" she gave a little shocked cry. "I-I do apologize…" she said, glancing shamefully in the direction Peter left in, "It's just…" She trailed off at a loss for a coherent explanation to give. The gryphon lowered his head in what she assumed was a gracious nod.

"But, of course, your majesty. Think nothing of it."

"What is your name?" she inquired, anxious to move away from the topic of Peter.

"Orrick, your majesty, and may I say I am deeply honored to be your carrier tonight."

Susan smiled kindly at that. "The honor is mine, Orrick," she replied and added jokingly, "I hope I will not be too heavy a load."

Horrified, the gryphon took it upon himself to defend her esteem (from herself) and scrambled to dispel the notion. "Never, your majesty! Why, you should be lighter than a field mouse!"

Edmund broke out into snorts of laughter behind her, and Susan narrowed her eyes, promptly ignoring him.

"I thank you for your kind words, though I should think myself slightly heavier than that."

"You _think_?" her younger brother guffawed and lost himself in another fit of laughter. "OW! HEY!"

Susan whirled around to see Lucy glaring at Edmund, a branch in hand. The boy was rubbing his arm frowningly. A proud glint lit her eyes and she wordlessly thanked her little sister for the vengeance. Tossing the branch aside, as it had served its purpose, Lucy ran into her embrace. They murmured words of parting and Susan indulged the young girl as she held onto her rather fiercely. Her heart broke a little to have her sister's tiny arms clutch her so.

"Don't be afraid," she whispered. "We've been here before – remember that."

"I should be allowed to go with you, Susan! What if one of you gets hurt…I won't be able to-"

"Have faith, Lu," she smiled tenderly.

Never was there a more ambiguous contradiction in a singular word. She had never mastered it, and most likely never would. For Lucy…it was the easiest thing that girl had ever known.

"If anyone should have faith – it's you. You've always carried mine."

As the admittance spilled from her lips, she couldn't help but realize how so very true it was – resounding even louder in her body, mind, heart, and soul as it was voiced to her ears.

Lucy didn't approve and shook her head violently. "Don't talk like that! You're saying too much of a goodbye. Don't say things as though you think you'll have no more chance to say them."

Susan nodded in acquiescence. She could hardly deny her sister's request and switched over into a motherly tone that always felt much more comfortable for her to adopt. "We'll be back soon, I promise. Be brave."

"Braver than you," Lucy shot back cheekily.

"As always," she agreed and her mouth curved upwards despite the melancholiness of her tone.

Peter startled them both with his solemn interjection. "Time to go."

The shine of sadness in his eyes made her wonder long he was standing there, for it was a considerable turnabout from his priggish attitude only minutes earlier. Lucy bade her brothers goodbye, and made them vow to return unscathed, which they did so obligingly. Soon they were raised into the air and Susan was eternally grateful she had never developed a fear of heights.

He flew besides her quietly, and she could feel his eyes on her, but would not acknowledge it. Why subject herself to any more of his foul glares? They couldn't be angry with each other right now; this was too perilous a time to let allow for distractions.

As they neared Castle Telmar, Susan could make out the sharp spires in the distance, her heart beat more precariously. Fear and worry rose in her chest, she worried for both her brothers safety; she worried for Peter who always put himself directly in harm's way, perhaps more than the others. He was never a King who stayed behind the protection of his soldiers. He fought for _them_ , rather than let _them_ fight for _him_. While it was an estimable quality, one of countless reasons why she loved him, it also put him the most at risk, and for that she was terrified.

There was a fear for her own safety, of course, but it paled in comparison to the one she had for him. The closer the castle got, the worse her fear grew. Unable to hold back any longer, she looked for Peter, she had to see him, had to find his face, and she found him…staring right back at her. Sucking in a breath at the intensity of his gaze, devoid of any sign of the earlier animosity, he was her Peter again, watching her lovingly and worriedly.

_I'm sorry. I love you. Forgive me. Be safe. Stay with me. Fight with me. Don't let them hurt you .I'll protect you._

Everything he wanted to say, she heard.

A cool sense of calm washed over her, and now more than ever, she felt ready for what was to come.

"Orrick?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"I need a favor."

Edmund flew out ahead of them. Soon they saw the flashing light of his torch, Peter nodded, and they began to dive. Everyone fell in line as planned. She was able to drop a watchman soundlessly before he managed to take aim on her younger brother.

A quiet "good luck," echoed in her ear before her feet touched the solid ground and then they were on their own.

* * *

It all happened so quickly. The plan deviated, as plans of that sort tend to do. He wouldn't listen! Beyond reason…beyond sanity… why couldn't he see as they did? Was it his arrogance that truly spearheaded all of this? Was it even possible for Peter to be so egocentric?

They had one more chance, just one, to forgo this futile attack as the odds towered over them, and he ignored it - ignored _her_. She should have left him there, should have run while they still could, and perhaps that would have made him see reason, maybe he would have followed.

"Help me!" he yelled.

And she could not refuse him.

Perhaps she should have taken the chance, and left, but he needed her. So she remained, despite all that told her not to, and pushed down on the wooden crank beside him.

"Exactly who are you doing this for, Peter?"

The look he gave her, neither one of confirmation nor declination, was not what she expected. As doubt rose in her, it brought with it questions she had no answers for. He was supposed to be cross with her for saying such a thing, infuriated even, but he wasn't in the slightest. There was just a frightened visage of guilt, she had cornered him, touched upon the very truth, but what truth had she found?

"For Narnia!" he roared and they ran head first, side by side, into the fray.

It sounded so wrong when he said it.

Chaos…absolute chaos raged around them. Madness, blood, death… everything fell apart as quickly as bodies dropped to the castle stone. She could hear him yelling beside her, shouting commands, his grunts of exertion as the next soldier was felled…and the next. She could do naught but focus on her own tasks: duck, swing, aim, fire. Again.

Don't think about the feeling of the arrow piercing their flesh, the clay-like plunge, the pained cry, the dull thud of their lifeless body crumpling to the ground.

Don't think of it.

He cried out for their brother and she managed to catch a glimpse of Edmund diving to safety. The archers circled them above; she heard their orders, the march of their feet as they were surrounded – sitting ducks. She knew those orders – she had given them enough times to know. Swords swiped and flew around her; the sharp clanging of metal on metal filled the air.

"Peter!" she cried out for him and he looked up in a panic. "We'll be trapped! We have to leave!"

Still, he wouldn't listen. He wasn't ready. And they would fall because of it.

"Not yet!"

Blood roared in her ears, so many harsh sounds. Another one dropped. Her hand stung from where an errant blade managed to catch her. Narnians, Telmarines, everyone was dying around her.

A frantic desperation poured its way out. "Swear you'll find your way out!" She didn't care what happened to her, if he made this promise, she knew he would keep it. Peter never broke his promises to her.

"I swear!" he shouted and their eyes locked for such a fleeting moment she wondered if it had happened at all. Then he vanished into the fray and she could not search for him as more soldiers came barreling towards her.

Destruction. Carnage. Faceless faces, bodiless bodies…

It felt like mere seconds later that she heard Peter screaming for them to retreat. Caspian darted out in front of her and disappeared in a side door of the castle.

Peter ran towards her, shouting to Glenstorm.

Were they too late?

"Go! Get her out of here! Back to the gate! Go!"

She couldn't leave, wouldn't! Not without him! But he swore… There was no time to hash it out, she barely blinked before her hand was seized and she was swung up onto the great centaur's back. Throwing her gaze behind, she wondered if this would be the last vision she had of her husband. Galloping away as he was engulfed in violence, fighting for a dying world.

"Caspian!" she shouted to him.

She didn't know where the damnable man had gone, but they couldn't leave him there! It was her last chance to help Peter. He would never forgive himself if he left the Prince behind – no matter his personal feelings. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Caspian had called them, Caspian was an integral part to all of this, and who knew what would become of them if he was lost.

There was no breath taken until he ducked under the gate, and then great gulps of oxygen were sucked into her burning lungs. Gratitude flooded her body upon witnessing his safety, but how dare she feel even a slightest sense of happiness when hundreds more were moments away from death? Disgusted with herself, she was unprepared for the inner collapse that was every bit as violent as the gate falling upon dear Asterius's back.

Peter was so torn, so broken… Tears threatened at the cusp, but it was not time for that. Utter devastation… all those lost…their brave cries…Glenstorm nodded gravely to his lost comrade and she could feel his grief as near as it were her own. Such devotion, valiant courage in the face of their mortality because they believed it was for a greater good and that they would die with honor.

Was it possible to die with honor? How can death, life extinguished, ever be considered honorable? Oh, their lives meant something, more than something, but they could do nothing to save them. Those soldiers believed, so willingly believed, not just in Narnia, but in Aslan himself. A mythical entity they'd never sighted before.

Was _this_ in Aslan's name?

Peter looked back and forth between them, each side pulling him the opposite direction.

_Come back to me…_

The bridge rose and he leapt over the gap. Soon, they were all hurdling at a breakneck speed to escape that abominable grave. She never took her eyes off him, and with a sob of relief she saw Edmund fly in next to Peter on Orrick. Her family was safe – that much she could be thankful for.

She didn't know what possessed her to do it, but just before they descended, she entreated Orrick's favor, asking him to stay behind and ignore Peter's orders. The gryphons were supposed to withdraw as soon as their tasks were complete. A band of giant, eagle-like creatures flying about was hardly conducive to their "surprise" approach. Still, a nagging, dreadful feeling in her said that they might be needed. So she asked Orrick, with the understanding that he would take pains to stay hidden, to keep watch in case something were to go wrong. The loyal creature didn't hesitate to fulfill his Queen's wishes.

It was a drowning sadness that filled each and every single body that fled into the encroaching dawn, knowing just what it was they had left behind.

* * *

No one knew where he was, having last seen the High King in front of the How locked in a shouting match with Prince Caspian upon their weary battle return. She knew he would be suffering right now, grieving for those lost as he knew their lives were now his burden to carry. That their blood stained his hands…

There was no other way to describe it, but as a mixed feeling when he finally came into view, hidden in the tall grass out behind the How. A different man sat on the broken, moss-covered stone – he was not the arrogant, headstrong boy that entered Narnia with her, walking through that cave and onto the beach. She came up to him slowly, trying to piece together what it is she would say – that is if he would let her say anything at all. There was no telling how he would respond to her, not after their recent division.

When she stood at his side, she didn't feel near to him at all. They might have been separated by an ocean and the foreignness would be the same. He stared blankly across the field. Whether he was simply incognizant of her presence or purposefully refusing acknowledgement, she knew not. As he stared straight ahead unflinchingly, her hand went to his shoulder and the tentative touch seemed to break something inside him.

Heaving, almost painfully, his entire body collapsed forward and he held his head in his hands. She could feel him trembling beneath her, but knew there were no tears on his face. Trying to find some further path of connection with him, she went to brush back the hair falling over his ear, but he jerked away.

"DON'T!" he snarled.

Susan recoiled as though she had been bitten. It felt as such. He never spoke to her that way before, never so viciously. The way he sounded… could that truly have just come from her Peter's mouth? A nauseated feeling rolled inside her, her lungs constricted and she forced herself into laborious breaths.

He was repulsed by her touch.

"Peter-"

"Just leave me be."

"It's not-"

"GO!"

The rough tremor was undeniable – he had no interest in her comfort – harbored no desire for her presence. With that soul searing knowledge, she could do nothing but turn away. Wanting to say something, _had_ to say anything, she took a few steps before halting. Palms damp with sweat, but her skin cold, she drew together what it was she needed to say and he needed to hear.

"To err is human, Peter."

She sounded so much older.

"Do you say that for me or for yourself?" he returned bitterly.

Walking away with her heart cleaved in two and her eyes shut tightly so as to prevent any unwanted tears, she wondered.

Perhaps she said it for both.


	5. What Was Lost…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may seem a little disjointed at first, but remember that I'm writing the "in-between scenes", so to speak, with occasional overlapping of the actual movie. It's supposed to be a more well-rounded explanation of the events and actions we saw. Scenes that I felt were pretty clear in their meaning, I didn't bother to include (it would just be repetitive). So in order to read this fic, you have to go on the basis that what you saw in PC did happen, this is just a...companion piece? A director's cut! haha. I'm adding to it, not taking away.

She overhead the commotion by chance. A faun came running up to a circle of soldiers, chattering excitedly about trouble with Prince Caspian in the Great Chamber. The High King ordered that no one was to enter. The faun barely had a chance to speak the words before Susan's legs were propelling her down the tunnels. Trouble? With Caspian? If she found those two at each other's throats again, there was no telling what she might do. Perhaps an arrow to both groin areas would suffice. Certainly would teach them a much needed lesson in humility.

* * *

Lucy jumped up onto the saddle first with a small grunt and fiddled there for a moment.

He had faltered.

_You know you can't do it alone._

As his sword dropped, so did their hope. It was an image she would never be able to erase, making her physically ill, and so it appeared each time her eyes closed. The icy hand stretched out towards him, beckoning him forward.

And he just stood there…waiting…wanting…

"Susan?" her sister's voice pierced the reverie and she started at the unexpected sound.

"What?" she replied sharply and at Lucy's frown, she regrouped and shook her head. "Sorry."

"Are you ready?" she asked quietly, having already forgiven the transgression.

Lucy knew what it was she had interrupted in her sister's silent abstraction.

Susan didn't answer, but it was alright, an answer wasn't expected. Lucy's small hand extended down and she took it, they both worked to get her into the saddle. Caspian shuffled in from the back, eyes downcast – the mark of a guilty man. He worked in silence to tighten the saddle belts, but when he grazed her ankle, Susan looked down at him accusingly and he froze in panic.

"Move up," her sister grumbled, still wiggling around behind her.

Somewhat begrudgingly, Susan shifted forwards, and the tension of error passed as Caspian regained the courage to continue setting the belt, albeit much more careful this time around to avoid coming into contact with the Queen.

"Destrier has always served me well," he said. "You are in good hands."

 _You know you can't do it alone_.

Her stomach lurched as the white hand flashed into her mind again, breaking through the icy prison.

"Or hooves," Lucy joked and Susan forced herself to remember where she was, what they were doing, what they were about to do.

Why did it feel as though that hand had already taken him from her?

Destrier shifted restlessly and she kept him steady with a commanding hold of the reins. The Prince looked up at her pleadingly, shamefully, and the worst one of all… lovingly. Edmund later explained the true circumstances, Nikabrik's betrayal and Caspian's compliance in a ritual to bring forth the White Witch.

"Pete knocked him out in time", he said.

In time for what?

The Telmarine had every right to be guilty, should be, and more. She didn't bother to speak with him in the time between, why would she? But that wasn't to say she didn't notice his longing glances whenever they passed each other by. His wet eyes disturbingly resembled that of the neighbor's cocker spaniel…

She wouldn't have given any of this a second thought if it hadn't been for Peter's seething. Every time Caspian turned her way, he looked murderous. Murderous! How dare he think he had any right to experience _anger_ at this point? Avoiding her most pointedly, he showed no remorse, no retribution, offered no humbled apology; he acted as though he had done nothing wrong and, Aslan, how that struck her very being.

She felt many things for Peter in their years. Love, antipathy of the worst kind, adoration, frustration, annoyance, grief, despair…but never had she so simply disliked him. It was always some extreme form of the spectrum, clouded by intensity, but this was clear, resolute.

He had forsaken her. In that moment, as he lowered his sword, he threw her away, along with everything they ever shared, along with their family, their country, and their lives.

Why did it feel like she was in mourning? Peter was still there, a living, breathing body, and yet she grieved with a bitter chasm inside her.

"Good luck," Caspian said throatily.

"Thanks," was all she could bring herself to reply and turned away from him.

It was hard to look into his despondent face, knowing that she was the cause and unwillingly so. Susan didn't care so much for Caspian, but he was a friend (in the loosest sense of the word), and had been nothing but kind towards her. He deserved an acknowledgment of that.

"Look," he said, reaching into his sack.

The sight of her old horn brought back such a storm of emotions; she couldn't pick which one to latch on to. The familiar friend was a balm to her aching wounds.

"Maybe it is time you had this back."

He held it out for her and it took all she had to resist curling her fingers round the horn once more - to feel the weight in her hand, running over the smooth markings elegantly carved into its body. She wanted it terribly and she wanted it not at all.

For all Caspian's faults, it was a sweet gesture to return it, and her esteem for him grew in that moment.

She didn't know what came over her just then, what force possessed her body and commandeered her mouth, but she hoped it never came again. It was a foul thing that left her feeling hollow and dirty.

"Why don't you hold on to it?"

Her smile betrayed her in the worst way.

"You might need to call me again."

Lucy's hands tightened around her waist.

The look of hope that came from him made her cringe inside and she could feel every part of her rebelling against the falsity she had just committed. Unable to bear it a second more, she urged Destrier forward and galloped through the tunnel with all the speed that horse possessed.

It was a good thing she did not witness the hidden fourth person in the room, the one who stumbled away, broken at long last.

Otherwise she would never have left.

"You might need to call me again?" Lucy demanded reprovingly, her hold never failing round her waist becoming more of a condemnation than a need.

"Oh, shut up!"

Susan wished her sister would clutch harder then perhaps she wouldn't have to breathe anymore. Guilt pervaded the recesses of her body and she rode the horse harder, faster, needing to escape that dreadful place as well as her loathsome self. She could feel herself sinking into a barren hole in the earth that she may never escape from.

Lucy wanted an explanation, wanted her to say that she didn't mean to give the impression of interest, that it was an accident, anything! Anything that would make it so that she did not encourage one man's affection while being tied to another, but an explanation was something she could not even give to herself.

They burst out of the tunnel and into daylight, disappearing into the forest just as rapidly.

"Don't do this to him," Lucy pleaded, pressing on her already heavy heart. "He lost his way, h-he's struggling, but, please…don't do this!"

Where had she heard that before?

"I'm not doing anything," she protested flatly.

"Susan-"

"Let it alone!" she shot back with more vehemence than she meant to.

Trees passed by them in a blur, branches and leaves whipped across their clothes as she led the horse through a winding path. Suddenly a stampede of hoof beats came from above them.

"Ride!" she heard men yell.

"They've seen us!" Lucy cried.

Looking back into her sister's frightened face and then up at their enemies, Susan turned around and rode harder. She knew what she had to do.

It wasn't so much a conscious acknowledgement, nor was it reasoned and anatomized in her head as all else was. It was simply knowledge in its base form, a deeper recognition. Perhaps you could say it was instinct that drove her, but it was a far more advanced and complex rendition. It wasn't a question of sacrifice, nor one of mortality – it was just something that had to be done and could not be explained further.

Susan rode them into a clearing and swung herself down off the horse without a second's hesitation.

"Take the reins."

Lucy was bewildered, of course, she didn't understand the gravity of their situation just yet.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, Lucy," she said. "But it looks as if you'll be going alone after all."

Truly she was sorry, for so much more than they had time to say. Sorry for not having been a better sister. Sorry for failing to be her friend. Lucy deserved more from her than just motherly chidings and practical assertions. She was her sister, her blood, and probably her closest companion – but Susan had been so wrapped up in her own world, fighting her own pain, that she cast off all others.

She would make up for that now.

Lucy looked down at her in devastation, knowing just what it was she planned to do and could say nothing otherwise. They both knew this was the only way. Susan wasn't worried, for Lucy could well do this alone. It was just on her part to make sure she got that far. If Lucy did not succeed, Peter and the others were lost. Slapping the horse's flank, she sent them off, and prepared herself for what was to come.

She quickly drew an arrow, notched it, and searched between the trees for any sign of the riders, but the forest was empty. Turning around to make sure Lucy had gone, she saw her sister standing atop the hill.

In that moment, she didn't see the little girl who cried in her arms when they left their mother, nor the same who clutched her middle and pleaded for them not to go to battle. Instead she saw the young woman her sister would become, the beautiful, laughing, kind-hearted being that would always skip and run as though on air regardless of age. Her gay and loving face, growing all the more beautiful with each passing year – oh they had lived so happily here. All of them.

With all the she held in her heart, she thanked Aslan for giving her that time, allowing her to be with her family, to see them mature into the fiercest, most compassionate, extraordinary people she could ever love. It was a gift. She knew that now. Because now she would not see it again.

It was up to Lucy to save the others, but as the young girl turned away in grief, Susan knew what she was thinking, could hear the voice inside her ear as clear as if Lucy had spoken it beside her.

_And who will save you, sister?_

Gazing up at her, Susan knew it would be the last.

Then Lucy was gone and she was alone.

The forest was eerily silent. There was no wind in the trees, no leaves rustling, no birds singing. Time, it seemed, had slowed for her – allowing her the most of what little she had left. Was it any wonder that his face filled her vision?

Everything else simply faded away. All the arguments, the animosity, the jealousy, the anger… none of it mattered anymore. If you had asked her to remember just then why her and Peter were at odds, she genuinely would not have been able to answer. She could only feel love, his love. Whatever had passed between them, the terrible things, she let them pass.

It was surely strange, to experience such a pure sensation of freedom in that barest suspension. Most people spend their whole lives looking for the kind of clarity Susan found in that moment before what she was certain would be her death. In that moment she found peace…and an understanding.

It is difficult to explain what exactly it is she understood, because though it was so clear to herself, she could not put it into words. All she could think was that she had _found_ it again. Her life made sense again. She had been trying so hard to discover what it was she needed to do, she gave no thought to the possibility that perhaps what she _needed_ to do was the same as what she _wanted_ to do.

So what did she want?

It was with relief and disappointment that she finally listened to what her soul had been trying to say all along. Truly listened at long last. Truly heard.

The crashing sound of hoof beats grew closer.

Her only regret was that it had taken her so long to get to this point. That she would die before she ever told him.

As Susan raised her bow, her heart raged against her chest. She could see nothing but his face, hear nothing but his voice, feel nothing but his body wrapped around her. Panic shot in faster than any arrow could fly, she would die without a fight if she could not see her enemies. And she'd be damned if that was how it would end.

Then, as it seemed, her concerns were answered. For as quickly as it came, Peter vanished and her vision was crystal clear. She now looked through eyes that of an eagle, everything was sharper, magnified. Never had she known such a concentrated sight, that so she could see the beads of moss on the trees, the paths of perspiration on the horses bearing down upon her, the scratch upon the first soldier's armor as he burst into the clearing.

Then he was down with a tremendous thunder, and it happened again, and again. Her fingers flew with perfection, her arms tightened and released with age-old familiarity. She moved faster than she ever remembered herself capable of. Focus, wait for it, there. Do it again. And again! Almost there!

The last one was upon her and she could not manage it in time. He rode into her and the overworked beast knocked out of the way. It didn't hurt when she hit the ground oddly enough. Leaves crunched underneath her hands and a sweet, earthy smell of rotting wood filled her nostrils. Her back was pressed against something solid, reminding her that there was nowhere to go. So close… she had been so close...

The soldier raised his sword and she wanted to whisper his name so that it would be the last thing ever to pass her lips.

When Caspian rode in, she could barely acknowledge the fact that he saved her life. All she could think about was that she had been given her chance! She wouldn't waste this. Susan Pevensie was many things, but a fool would never be one of them.

"Need a hand?" the Prince reached out to her grinningly.

Could have used one ten minutes ago, she thought begrudgingly, but it hardly registered on the overall scale. The brilliant smile on her face was inescapable.

She was ready now.

As they rode back through the forest, she went through all the things she wanted to say to him, all the things they had to do, had yet to do, but when they broke through the edge of the field and she saw two small figures in the distant clashing against each other, the thunderous roar of a bloodthirsty crowd, her mouth went dry and fear twisted her stomach. Caspian slowed them to a trot and she nearly shoved him off the horse for doing such a stupid thing. If she had the reins, she would have galloped to the very pillars and leapt off while the animal was still moving if it did not halt in time.

Peter needed her.

She could see that he was hurting as he looked up to their arrival. The two of them appeared to call a respite and she watched them limp away from each other. Throwing herself down on the ground, she raced towards Peter, wanting nothing more but to throw her arms around him and take them both away from here, find someplace safe where there was no violence, no battle to undertake, no duty to fulfill, no people to lead – someplace just for them…where they could heal from the wounds far more damaging than those that can be seen.

About to do just that, she was broken from her thoughts by Caspian running up behind her, panting hard. His presence made it impossible to consider the option of escape any longer. Yes, for a second there, she had honestly entertained it. Peter came towards her slowly and she could not tear her eyes away from his battle-weary sight. Sweating, dirty, and bruised, he walked carefully, favoring his left side.

Her presence threw him, that much was evident, and he looked to her anxiously with query. "Lucy?"

As shameful as it was to admit it, the young girl was not on her mind just then. Right now, Susan could see and think of nothing but Peter and his safety. He was already so exhausted, how could he take much more of a fight? Had they been back long enough for him to regain all the skills he acquired during their olden reign? Would they be enough against Miraz? One slip…that was all it took and his life would be ended. She wouldn't lose him now. Couldn't!

"She got through…" Susan answered and glanced at Caspian so he would understand, "with a little help."

When Peter thanked the Prince, it was unnerving to see him be so genuine. She actually wished he would say something rude, anything pompous or arrogant to indicate that he had every intention of continuing their rivalry when he finished the fight. Instead, his gratitude only made her feel as though he were preparing for… No. She would not even think it.

"Well, you were busy," Caspian shrugged, but she was hardly listening.

The longer she stood there next to him, the harder she found it to breathe, and not for its usual reasons. Her eyes continually bounced across his form, trying to discern exactly where it was he was injured, its severity, and mostly she just needed to see him, needed to keep taking it all in. Even then she couldn't help herself from noticing how handsome he was, caked with sweat and dust, his uniform torn, and his hair a dirty mop across his forehead.

She never knew a more beautiful man.

Peter had to survive this! He had to defeat Miraz. They had to win this. There was no other way. Her mistakes couldn't end like this – she needed to fix it. It was their time again; no one would take that away. Not even a man as evil as the one standing a few feet away from them.

"You better get up there," he said gently and she glanced back at the ledge of the How he meant for her to take.

A knee jerk reaction boiled over in her and she could already feel her heels digging into the ground. Leave! Like hell he would get her to leave his side. She was staying put.

"Just in case."

His sweet but firm askance broke her heart all over again.

"I don't expect the Telmarines will keep their word."

From the tone of his voice, Susan could not ascertain whether he believed it would be his victory or theirs. He could not think to lose, he wouldn't dare!

Peter turned round, to look at the enemy or the enemy's army she knew not, but his back was a sight more than she could bear. Their distance too much and she pulled him into her arms. Even then she could still feel the space between. He wasn't ready to forgive yet. The hug proved to be too forceful on her part as she had thoughtlessly forgotten the injury to his shoulder. He made a pained cry and she unwillingly released him. In one dark, fleeting, moment she wondered if the utterance were true or if perhaps it had just been a means to keep her from touching him.

"Sorry."

"It's all right," he shook his head.

Awkwardness with Peter was hardly a new development, but the reasoning for it this time was beyond her grasp. When he took a step back, Susan nearly unraveled right then and there, but fought to remain in control. Peter never purposely allowed the wind to go between them; it had always been her that would ask for such a separation.

His head hung slightly in a sad sort of defeat and she felt her hands twitch with an innate urge to be placed upon on him, to right the wrong. He watched through thick eyelashes and a powerful feeling imprisoned her, she knew not how to react. Desire and love spilled over and mixed itself blamelessly with guilt and sheer terror until the four could no longer be distinguished. It threatened to disintegrate her on the very spot.

How badly she needed to kiss him. To taste his full, sweet, warm lips just once more. He was so close… one small step… Would he hate her if she did? In front of everyone? She wanted his comfort, wanted to give him hers. It tormented her to know that she could not kiss her husband at will – it hadn't always been that way. As near as they were physically, it was still much too far. Every nerve in her body was aching to have him hold her the way she so desperately needed him to.

It would have been selfish though, it would have been about her needs and her desires with no respect or regard for his. Peter wasn't there.

Susan could do naught but accept it.

"Be careful," she urged and detested how useless she sounded. What else was she to say?

"If anything…" he whispered too low for anyone else to hear, "happens you must-"

"Stop it," she cut him off under no uncertain terms.

The refusal frustrated him, she could see it in his face, but Susan would not adhere. He would not continue no matter how much he felt it needed to be done. He would not say goodbye – they would _never_ say goodbye.

"Keep smiling," Edmund interrupted tersely, alerting them once again to the duties they had so long ago vowed on the throne to uphold.

"We're not finished yet," she said with a heavy breath and hoped her words would raise his spirit.

There was a time, in the years before they were sent back, when Peter had to leave for one battle, while Susan was required to lead another one simultaneously. The separation terrified them both, and when the moment of their departure arrived, Peter was near tears, but it was Susan who consoled him.

He held her and began to whisper his goodbyes when she suddenly beat him back in a fit of violence. Heartbroken, Peter was beside himself with grief. He could not make hide nor hair of the volatile reaction until Susan took his face in her hands and carefully made him swear never to try such a thing again. They could never say farewell, for the day they said goodbye would be the day they left this life and their cold bodies would be put in the ground.

Never say goodbye. Not unless it was to be the last. If there was more to do, more to say, more to be, then they would embrace and reaffirm their love, but it would not be goodbye.

They made it through the dual battles, of course, though not without injury, and Narnia emerged once again victorious. Though the kingdom rejoiced with large feasts and raucous merrymaking, the High King and High Queen chose to retreat to the quiet solicitude of their bedchamber to care for each other's wounds better than any healer's salve and revel in their own private celebration.

Peter's eyes fell shut and the internal war he waged was visible in the drawn lines of his young face. After a tight nod, he looked at her again and the rawness of his keen gaze let her know that he understood, that he remembered their agreement as well as she did.

When Susan ripped away from him, it felt like she had torn her body in two. Peter had always held such a large part of her.

She would do what he asked.

The crowd erupted into a roar of cheers and encouragement as she ran into the How and her ears threatened to bleed. The heartening noise was intolerable. Susan wished she could scream and rage at them all. She ran as fast as her legs would allow for if she didn't, surely his force would have grounded her at his side still.

She didn't look back either.


	6. Amends

The battle was a long one. At times she feared it would never end. It seemed there was no part of her that had not been bruised, battered, or scraped. Her knees still throbbed from when she slammed into the side of the How before dropping to safety, but she was grateful for the reminder. If Trumpkin had not been as quick as he was, she would not be standing now to bemoan her injuries.

Her arms trembled from overuse and her body was beyond the point of exhaustion, but just when she would think she'd have no more strength to go on, Peter would catch the corner of her eye. His bellowing encouragement would reach her ears. Suddenly, a spark of energy would swirl up from some deep, unknown place inside her, and she carried on.

It was a bloody, shameless war they fought. The Telmarines had no honor. A Narnian defeat seemed so inevitable; Susan could not help but search the sea of clashing bodies for her husband, hoping to remain at his side for their end. She didn't have to look long because Peter was just a few feet behind her. Throughout the entire battle, he never strayed too far.

It was not until she heard the ripping sound of a root being torn from the ground, that hope burst anew. Her sister had succeeded, and it shamed her to admit that she had doubted the possibility. But Lucy saved them all. The trees caused the Telmarines to scatter and they retreated like the cowards they were.

"For Aslan!" Peter roared.

This time it sounded right. This time she believed him.

The events that followed were more of a blur than a succession of improbable events. Aslan came to their rescue once again and the Telmarines surrendered. With an innate sense of determination and a hint of guilt, she kneeled before the Great Lion. Her guilt, it seems, did not go unnoticed, for when they rose and started to go their separate ways, Aslan called her to his side.

Without a word, the Lion breathed on her and in the sweet scent she could feel her courage rise again to fill her with the strength she had been endlessly searching for. A gentle smile of gratitude caused her mouth to widen and she buried her face in his great mane to whisper her thank you. When she let go, soft brown eyes kindly bid her leave and she walked away to find her siblings. Lucy and Edmund were standing with Glenstorm, but no one knew where Peter was. He seemed to have vanished into thin air.

"Perhaps he needed a moment alone," her brother suggested with a hand on her arm to keep her from setting off to find him.

At first, she wanted to refuse. Hadn't enough time passed already? Lucy's reluctant nod of agreement set the final nail and she relented.

Night fell upon them quickly, but the air never cooled. Fires were lit only for the light they provided. A temporary campsite had been set up, using mostly the Telmarine tents. In a turn of fairness, the soldiers were made to sleep in the open, and the Narnians were given the shelter. Strangely enough, the Telmarines voiced no complaints. Aslan had vanished once again, but no one worried. As strange as it sounded, they could feel his presence still.

She found herself standing in the middle of the encampment with no set purpose whatsoever. Aimlessness was not a situation to which Susan was accustomed. She searched across the rows of bland, colorless tent, some were lit from the inside with moving shadows and others remained dark. Of course she was looking for him, but how was any person to be found in this? Would it come down to her searching each and every one?

The answer came as though she had voiced her question aloud. Which she was fairly certain she had not.

"He's in that one," Ed mumbled beside her.

Surprised by his sudden appearance, Susan jumped, but then looked in the direction he motioned to with a frown. The tent he pointed at looked so lonely set off from the others.

"You're sharing?" she asked, unable to peel her eyes off the shadowy outline inside.

"Not tonight," he answered, and their gaze met.

A tiny smile tugged on the corner of her lips, her brother never ceased to amaze. Edmund walked away without another word to pass between them, but it had all been said anyway. Before she had a chance to move, she heard Lucy's quiet query behind her.

"What is she doing?"

"What do you think?" she heard Ed dully reply.

"Is it P-"

He interrupted her. "You have a spare in your tent?"

"Spare?" she echoed. "Spare what? No, it's Susan's – wait! Where do you think you're going! Edmund! No! You're not staying with me! Stop right there! I refuse – Ed? Edmund!" There was a small groan and then a drawn out whine that could only be sounded by her little sister, "But you _snore_!"

Susan heard no more after that, for the voices of her brother and sister faded away out of earshot. Peter's tent still loomed before her imposingly, she could no longer see his shadow, but the lantern still flickered within. It was just a canvas, it shouldn't look so threatening. Taking a deep breath to quell her jittery nerves, she allowed the force to draw her for once, instead of resisting as before, each step of the way.

It was with a shaking hand that she drew back the folds and entered. On the makeshift bed, Peter lay still on his side facing away from her. He wasn't asleep though; she had seen him moving about only seconds before.

There was nothing she wanted more than to be curled up beside him, to have his long arms surround her in a warm embrace, to feel his breath on her neck, and be caressed by his loving whispers. She wanted it, needed it, and there was no longer anything inside her that said to rebel against these desires. She had given in, not just now, perhaps not even all at once, but she was there, however long it took.

Was it too long?

Unsure of what to do exactly, how to start or even where to start, she passed over to his bedside with a hand stretched out to rouse him, but just before she made contact, she snatched it away. Stumbling lightly, Susan turned from him as he was turned to her, and chided herself for being so cowardly.

A tired sound echoed behind her. "What are you doing in here?"

He hadn't startled her. It seems she had expected it.

"I wanted to see you," she replied simply and faced him.

His hard look did nothing to allay her fears.

"And now you have. You may go."

The indifference he entreated was perhaps more disturbing than any vehement words of anger could cause. Had she truly lost him once and for all? Did she push him too far? It was wrong of her to believe that he would still be there simply because she had come round at long last. Wrong… and yet she couldn't help but believe it anyway.

"Why must you be this way?" she shook her head and vowed to that there would be no tears. "What I've done… Tell me how to mend this! Say it and I'll do it, so as long as you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Peter, I can't bear another minute witho-"

"Do you love Caspian?"

Susan could only blink in astonishment and it took her a full few moments to gather sanity enough to respond.

"Caspian?"

If he clenched his jaw any tighter they were going to need Lucy's cordial.

The full-fledged force of his accusation (and, yes, it was an accusation no matter how guilelessly he posed it) hit her and she whipped around on him. " _Love_ Caspian? PETER! Are you absolutely MENTAL? I've never heard such an ABSURD thing come out of your mouth before, and believe me _that_ is saying something!"

"I saw you," he gritted out darkly and she realized he had yet to look at her; his gaze was ever fixated just past her ear at some unknown object beyond. He didn't even have the decency to look her in the eye while making such a preposterous and insulting claim.

"Saw me what?" she snapped impatiently.

The smothering calm he held cracked and Peter blew into a rage, leaping off the bed. "I SAW YOU! WITH _HIM_! YOU GAVE HIM YOUR HORN!"

Susan cringed and took an involuntary step backwards that only spurred him on. All sense of self-righteousness was sucked out of her and the control she entered with previously was nowhere to be found.

He was there? He had witnessed her shamefully coquettish behavior with Caspian? It was foolish and an inarguably young mistake. She only wished it were possible to erase that moment in time, but she could not. Why did he have to see it!

"It didn't mean anything," she said weakly.

What excuse could she offer him? There was none.

"It didn't mean anything!" he echoed in disbelief. "Your horn, Susan! One of our gifts from Father Christmas, perhaps your most prized possession. You gave it away to a man you _know_ feels for you. And you have the gall to stand there and tell me that it meant nothing!"

It was a faulty assumption on his part, but she couldn't bring herself to correct him just then. Her horn was hardly her most prized possession - didn't even compare really.

"It doesn't! I swear. I-it was a mistake! I wasn't exactly thinking _clearly_ …"

"Why did you do it?"

"I don't know!" she cried forlornly, frustrated wholly with herself rather than Peter. "He looked so sad, I couldn't help myself."

"So whenever someone sheds a tear, I should expect to find you in their bed soon after?" he sneered.

Gasping in outrage, she could feel the fury swell inside of her. What right did he have to speak to her that way! For all her faults, never did she deserve such cruelty from his mouth.

"How _dare_ you! I could never-"

"THEN WHY DID YOU DO IT?" he bellowed.

Beyond thought, beyond reason, she could only feel all the frustration, fear, and anger that had been coalescing since that first step onto the white sand.

"I WAS ANGRY WITH YOU!"

"WHY?" he shot back, his face burning to let the outside know what was within. "BECAUSE I WAS WEAK?"

"YES!"

As soon as she screamed the word, they both stared at each other in horror. The wind was jolted out of both their sails and down they came, crashing clumsily to earth. She could see the tears threatening to spill, but he blinked them back fiercely.

"I-I didn't mean it like that," Susan said quietly. How was she to explain? Could she? "I only…"

Tell him. Tell him why the hand still haunts you to this very moment and may for long after.

"You _gave up_ ," she said at last and covered her mouth with a shaking hand. "I saw you. It was only for a moment…but it happened."

Peter shook his head frantically, desperate to dispel the very notion. "It was a spell, Su! Some enchantment… I wasn't myself. It wasn't me!"

Coolly, she replied, "Can you honestly say that if you weren't susceptible to such temptations, it would have had the same effect?"

He had no answer for that and Susan turned her head. Did she expect him to have one?

"I'm only human," he sighed wearily. "Y-you said so yourself."

"And when do we stop faulting evil for the excuse of humanity?"

Peter's eyes widened in horror and she quickly regretted her choice of words. "Evil? You think me evil?"

"No… no, of course I don't, but Peter… you _frightened_ me. I-I've never been frightened of you before in my life, but this…" she trailed off and looked away from him for a moment before gathering her strength. "You hurt me more than you will ever know."

"I'm sorry," he whispered through trembling lips. "I'm sorry I'm weak…that I'm not a better man…"

"You're not weak!" Susan returned heatedly, surprising him, as well as herself. "You are the strongest, most benevolent, loving boy," she corrected herself, "man. I know what I said, but one moment of weakness does not break the whole. I'm just…angry! As you are still angry with me for what happened, for pushing you away, for giving up on us. It seems that just as soon as I find the courage, you almost leave me – of your own volition! How are you so lost that you would even consider for a moment letting that-that _monster_ have reign again? For what? To satisfy your thirst to rule? To be High King Peter the Magnificent again – no matter the cost? You want power as we had before only there is not so much to be gained from being leader of a band of ragamuffins."

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't I?"

"NO! I don't need power. It's not about that – it's never been about that. I just… I just wanted it back. I wanted my life back – our life back. For it to be the way it was. I thought that if we could defeat Miraz…"

"That things would go back to the way they used to be? Thousands of years ago?"

"It's only been a year, damn it! It's not fair!"

"It never is, but we make do with what we can. Peter… it will never be like it was. I've accepted it. But perhaps we can find a different life that isn't so bad at all."

"Do you believe that we can be happy again?"

"I believe that we deserve the chance to try."

"So Caspian…"

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Meant nothing. I _am_ sorry for hurting you, I shouldn't have been so priggish, but it truly was meaningless. As a matter of fact, I'm considering sending Edmund to pilfer the horn back so I'll not have to concern myself with it any longer."

Peter chuckled approvingly. "Good. I feared we'd be called daily if left in his hands."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment in silence, neither one knew what was to be done. What was next? He made no move to close their distance, no hint that the argument had indeed been resolved, that they could move on now. But it had been resolved! Hadn't it? Perhaps he was waiting, waiting for her finalize it – to make it real. Peter had fought so hard for them, now it was her turn to prove herself.

So it was with a fluttering heart and unsteady feet that she inched towards him. That known sense of terror, excitement, and utter nausea, coiled into one and she was in a free fall… he had always been able to make her feel that way. When Peter saw her coming towards him, he sucked in a breath as though the very sight had pained him. As soon as she was close enough, she reached out and laid a trembling hand upon his cheek before following it with her lips. It was a chaste and tentative kiss she caressed him with before pulling back with inquisitively, needing to know what his response was. She could not feel it. Had he accepted? Had he refused?

Susan needn't have worried, for he brought her back in an instant and they were locked in an oh-so achingly familiar embrace.

They undressed each other slowly, unwilling to rush through as they did before. There was time now, time to savor, explore, feel each sensation as deeply as they could, and rejoice in their newfound commitment.

Lost in a deep surrender of lovemaking kisses, she felt his fingers trail over her shoulders and soon she was divested of her dress in one fell swoop. He didn't seem very willing to push matters beyond that, tentative and hesitant to touch her. It was a surprising course of action for Peter. They had been together enough to be _long_ past this point and yet he appeared nervous – frightened almost, in the way a young boy would be unsure and clumsy with his first female encounter. Peter wasn't clumsy, but he was unsure. The way he clung to her to insistently, it was an embrace not simply of arousal, but for comfort and reassurance.

Knowing this, Susan kissed him deeply, before leading him down to sit on the bed before her. He went willingly, but his hands firmly gripped her thighs, just underneath her bottom, so that he could be assured of her continual proximity. She pulled his tunic off and his hair became mussed in the process, falling over his eyes. An ever loving smile graced her lips once again. She brushed back the tangled blonde strands and smoothed them back into place in a fruitless attempt.

Peter reached over to the nearby table and extinguished the lamplight, leaving them in twilight darkness. He stared up at her with deep blue eyes that shined against the black, watching her every movement, every smile, every breath, every shy sideline glance. With ancient ease, he removed the rest of her undergarments, rendering her wholly bare before him. Her breathing became shallow as anxiety overwhelmed her and pounded through her veins. It seemed half of the blood in her body went rushing to her cheeks and the other half streaked downwards to flush her throbbing core. Her heart thumped so loudly against her chest, she knew he could hear it. Peter always had the ability to strip her down to the essence, and settle for nothing less than the unabashed truth that lay at her core. When she was naked to him, it was not the lack of clothing that made it so.

A warm breeze from across the Ford fluttered through the tent, ruffling the flaps harmlessly (thankfully not nearly enough to allow anyone to see inside). Inhaling the delicious, clean scent of Narnia, her eyes closed at the welcome myriad of calming sensations and memories it brought. Peter wrapped his arms securely round her waist and trailed soft, open-mouthed kisses down the valley of her breasts.

He took his time, moving at a generous pace because he knew he was allowed now. Now he could revel and explore to his heart's content, and she would enjoy every minute of it. Her hands drifted up and down lazily across his back and she murmured a gentle hum of delight at his attention. A burning heat had long since been kindled and she could feel the flood moisture between her legs, begging him for more. Peter continued down her belly and sloped wayward to her hip. His kisses became more and more sporadic, until he finally halted altogether. It took her a moment to open her eyes and realize that he had indeed stopped. Swallowing thickly, she looked down to see a crown of fair hair against the pale contrast of her skin. He had flattened his cheek against the soft curve of her stomach and clutched her fiercely without movement.

Susan's heart panged at the raw vulnerability he expressed in that moment. Lovingly, she threaded her fingers in his hair and held him to her in return.

"Don't let go," he uttered gruffly.

So she didn't.


	7. Second Chances

Susan had already dressed and was tending to her hair when he started shifting about in bed. It wasn't until she heard a groan that she looked to him, only to find Peter staring back at her blearily.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said groggily. "Come back to bed at once!"

She rolled her eyes. "Better get up; you'll hardly have time to dress for the coronation."

"Coronation?" he echoed and then buried his face in the pillow, muttering something unintelligible until she heard, "There's no coronation."

"Nice try, but you'll have to do better than that."

"Come back to bed, Su," he pleaded. "We'll have a lie-in."

"Peter," she started sternly, "in less than an hour Caspian will be crowned King of Narnia. How would it look if Narnia's _High_ King is not there to preside over it?"

He sighed and gazed at her silently for a moment, wanting to speak and yet doing nothing of the sort. Susan's brow furrowed curiously.

"What is it?"

Peter shook his head and rolled on his back, staring at the ceiling of their tent. "Caspian will not be Narnia's ruler."

Shocked, she knew not what to make of this, torn between believing him and wary that this was another product of his teasing. She rose from the pedestal, leaving her brush behind without a second thought, and went to the bedside.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked carefully.

He didn't look at her, his eyes fixed on the sagging cloth above with an expression that was neither pleased nor aggrieved. When he did not answer, it alarmed Susan all the more and she sat down next to him, ready to pursue it further. Before she had a chance to speak again, Peter rose up in a flash and seized her, pulling her down to the bed and pinned her beneath his body.

"Peter!" she exclaimed in surprise and then struggled against him as surprise was quickly overrun by annoyance. His laughter filled her ears and she was baffled – it had all been a joke? "What on earth…"

He grabbed her wrists as her arms flailed against him and pinned them over her head. "You prat! Did they leave your head behind on the battlefield!" She fought him even harder now, truly incensed by his deception, but it wasn't until she noticed the brilliant smile on his face that she stopped. He was beaming at her, filled with an overwhelming sense of joy and peace. He was so happy… so utterly and breathtakingly happy.

It filled her heart to see it.

"Susan…" he bubbled over with excitement and released his playful hold, "Last night, I-I went to Aslan."

The name caused her stomach to lurch painfully. Perhaps it wasn't the name at all, but rather what she expected the named to bring.

"I spoke with him….about us, the four of us, and what was to become of us."

The playfulness of the matter had long since vanished and she pushed him off her with no resistance. Sitting up in the bed, he followed her understandingly.

"And?" her voice wavered precariously.

What _was_ to become of them all? Say it fast. Fast enough so that the hurt won't know when to set in.

"He said we are to stay."

Her breathing quickened and she could feel the room sway under her vision. Impossible…

"Narnia needs us to rebuild what's been lost. She lies in ruin, worse than anything we ever saw after the Hundred Years Winter. Caspian cannot lead them, not like we can. He will be instated today, but not as a King of Narnia, instead he will be Lord Caspian of Telmaria, a noble governing the newest province of _our_ land."

"A-and Caspian knows of this?" It was the only thing she could think of to reply. It was all too much.

"He was informed early this morning and readily agreed. He will lead his people, and we will lead ours."

"Peter…"

"It's up to us again, Su. Like it was before, only we can do even greater good this time."

"It will never be like it was before."

"It can be _better_."

At her refusal, he encircled his arms around her, pulling her stiff form close to him, she was still resisting.

"We _can_ have this, Susan."

"And when we are sent away again?"

"You can't keep thinking like that! Waiting for what you deem is the inevitable. That's not living! We don't even know it will happen."

"Yes, we do!"

"Then we will be together then as well. Remember what I said? Here, England…anywhere…"

She nodded imperceptibly and finished it for him in a whisper, "We will find a way."

"Just…just love me," he said with a hint of underlying fear.

Susan took his face in her hands and made sure that he looked at her while she spoke. In a clear, determined manner, she said, "That is something you will never have to ask me to do."

They kiss.

"Peter! Susan! Hurry up, we're starting!" Lucy called impatiently from outside the tent.

"Bother!" she cried at the reminder and rushed over to the tarnished mirror to check the state of her hair and dress, smoothing it down quickly. Peter, however, did not appear to share her concerns for their tardiness and languidly rose from the bed, unabashedly nude. Susan spun around and clucked her tongue disapprovingly at his pace. She tossed his trousers at his head, smacking him full in the face.

"Will you hurry!"

With a small sound of indignation, Peter made a face and pulled them on. Susan rushed around, trying to find the necklace that she had put out for herself just the night before. When she finally found it and clasped it round her neck, she turned to see her husband leisurely pulling on his boots, still completely bare-chested.

"Peter!" she burst out in exasperation and snatched his shirt off the chair. Without a moment's hesitation, she stormed over to him and yanked the blue material over his head, hastily tying the front. "I swear, sometimes I think you act like an incompetent fool so I'll…"

She halted in realization, already with his vest in hand, and looked to Peter accusingly. The tiny smirk on his face was all she needed. His guilty, but delighted expression reminded her of a mischievous schoolboy who had just been caught with his hand somewhere it shouldn't have been.

"I just like it when you touch me," he said.

All the tension, the anxiety, the pressure to rush, was expelled from her body with that simple, heartfelt statement. She sighed and tilted her head to the side in a tender acknowledgment.

How was any woman to refuse that?

Edmund glowered at his siblings when they arrived to the ceremony unpardonably late and in complete disarray. Lucy's eyes went wide at the sight of them and she quickly stifled giggles with her hand over her mouth. Peter and Susan pretended not to notice anything out of the ordinary, and watched the ceremony with their fingers firmly laced as Aslan presented the new Lord of Telmaria.


	8. Midnight Calling

Sounds of a freed people filled her ears, the roar was unimaginable. Susan was certain their happiness had merged with her own, so much that her chest felt it would burst, her cheeks to split from an ever widening grin. His laughter was rich and deep, like she remembered it being so long ago and so it was again. She shivered at the sound and tightened her grip on the reins.

The entire affair reminded her so much of the Narnians happiness after they defeated the White Witch and released them from the Hundred Years Winter at long last. It wasn't quite the same, nor was it altogether different. These were a different people, a different world, but they would find what they once had again.

Still, as delighted as she was to witness the happiness of a long oppressed culture, one that she helped to free, she couldn't wait to be alone with him again. Far too much time lost, now they needed to make up for it.

The horses bounced their way through the massive crowds, trotting on flower petals as Telmarines showered the Kings and Queens from windows. Caspian led the procession out of courtesy; this was his domain essentially, even though the Royal Four were his superiors. Susan looked back at her younger siblings, who looked every bit as shining and delirious as she felt. Narnia had sunk into their souls and taken possession once more, for all of them.

Yes, this is the way it is supposed to be.

A hand curled around hers and she turned her gaze back to him. Peter beamed, his eyes sparkling with more than just a parade's infectious demeanor. He pressed his lips to her hand and squeezed tightly so that she knew he was thinking it too.

Couldn't Caspian move any faster up there?

* * *

They took up residence in Castle Telmar temporarily while plans went underway for Cair Paravel to be rebuilt to its original majesty. Aslan considered it his gift to the Royal Four and assured them it would not take very long (not with his special brand of assistance).

That night, Susan left the bedchamber she was allotted by Caspian's household attendant, and stole out into the empty hallway in her dressing gown. She was surprised that the man had been so poorly informed as to not put her in the same room as her husband, but chose to let it go for the night. Everyone was so exhausted and rattled with changes from the upheaval of command that it wasn't worth it for her to add to the burden. It could be sorted easily enough by morning. After all, it wasn't as though they had been very forthcoming with the actuality of their relationship – how was she to expect others to know?

However, at supper, Peter was infuriated. He was certain that it was a personal attack by Caspian to be so insulting as to separate him from his wife. Susan told him to keep his gob shut and stop overreacting. Whilst he fumed, she added softly that nothing would keep her from a bed with him tonight. At that, his anger all but dissipated and he spent the rest of the meal bouncing his leg anxiously, grinning and cracking jokes so often that Edmund demanded to know how much wine he had consumed (and where he could get some for himself).

* * *

Caspian walked quickly but silently down the hall, his anxiety driving his steps to a faster pace than usual. His palms were slick with sweat and his heart thudded against his ribcage painfully. It hadn't been an accident or oversight to place Queen Susan in quarters separate from King Peter. Her kind treatment of Caspian during the battle had been imprinted in the young man's mind with a trepidatious hope.

Yes, she had rebuffed him before, but for a woman who was apparently spoken for, she spent very little time with her husband. Their relationship seemed quite a few degrees below freezing, all the glares and harsh words, the bitterness, had not gone unnoticed. It was all he needed when she gave him that smile while allowing him to keep the horn before riding off.

Tonight, he was going to find out what was really in Queen Susan's heart. Perhaps she would give him a chance, rather than let ancient ties to her brother keep her chained down. If she gave him the word, Caspian would end the alliance with High King Peter and ensure that, in this war, the Telmarines would be victorious.

He rounded a corner, closing in on her bedchamber when he caught a glimpse of the object of his affection disappearing down the corridor. His heart leapt into his throat – it was now or never. Breaking into a jog, he tried to catch up with her, but was wholly unprepared for what he found. He skidded to a stop and spun on his heel to duck back behind the wall so that he would be unseen. Queen Susan was no longer alone.

Breathless laughter filtered down the corridor from a mere few feet away where Peter and Susan were tangled in an embrace.

"I thought I was to come to you," Caspian heard Peter say.

"Mmmm, no matter." Hushed sounds of lips meeting and ever so slight moans caused Caspian to curl his fists into a ball till the joints cracked. "Only whose chamber is closest now?"

"Ah," Peter replied breathlessly after a long stretch, "I believe that would be yours."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Caspian's eyes fell closed with a sigh at her smooth, seductive voice. Why was he doomed to never hear it intended for him? What did Peter have that Caspian did not? What did he provide her with that he himself was so unable?

A small cry of surprise alerted him once more and he peeked around the corner to see Peter and Susan skive off into an alcove as a night attendant passed them by. He took care to conceal himself as well from the woman, not wanting his position to be discovered by anyone quite yet. He didn't know why he wanted to wait there, what it was that rooted him to this somewhat voyeuristic desire to invade the High King and High Queen's privacy. He only knew that he needed to see more, to convince himself once and for all that Susan would never be his. Perhaps a part of him believed his eyes were playing a trick on him, that he saw not what was there.

Caspian looked once again down the corridor and quickly moved behind a nearby pillar to get closer. He saw Peter step out cautiously from the alcove, his cheeks colored a rosy shade usually aligned with exertion. He checked to make sure there was no one else coming and then walked out a little more before a hand shot out from the recesses of the alcove to yank him back into the shadows. Caspian was too far away to hear anything that was said and his frustration got the better of him. He abandoned all caution and left the hidden safety of the pillar to venture closer to the alcove.

As he moved, the sounds grew louder until he very clearly heard Peter gasp then groan. "Susan!"

At that moment, everything in Caspian told him to turn back, run as far as he could from this spot and forget anything he ever witnessed. Oh, but he was a fool. One more step was all it took and he glimpsed the half hidden couple in the dark. He saw only a fraction of their figures, but enough to see the outline of a man's shoulders and a woman before him on her knees.

Caspian didn't realize that the crushing pain he felt in his heart had been echoed out loud until he heard the surprised exclamations of Peter and Susan. As fast as humanly possible, he ran from the couple and was out of sight before they could even look out of the alcove. He kept running corridor after corridor, through door after door, until he found himself alone in the stables, and there he fell to the straw covered floor to shudder without tears.

* * *

It was the third night of their stay in Castle Telmar, they were to leave the following morning, when Susan came into the bedchamber she now shared with Peter holding something behind her back. Peter was reclined, half-undressed, on the bed when she entered and looked to her curiously. With flourish, Susan held her hands out over him to reveal her horn, the one she received from Father Christmas so very long ago.

"See! It has returned to its rightful owner." She brandished it cockily.

Peter grinned. "How did you manage to convince Ed?"

"Please! From the moment I told him, he was chomping at the bit to go after it. In fact, I had to convince him to do it silently. He wanted to storm up to Caspian and demand it back - said I was right stupid to ever give it away."

He shrugged, having no debate for that.

Susan rolled her eyes. "No matter! He snuck in Caspian's quarters this afternoon, got away without a nick."

"Where did he find it? Under the Prince's pillow?"

"You're so cruel!" she gaped in astonishment, but couldn't help a giggle. "I don't know where he found it. And Caspian is no longer a Prince, but a noble. You should refer to him as such."

" _Noble_ Caspian, my ar-" he started, but cut himself off at her warning look. With an uncaring shrug, he dismissed the matter, but then furrowed his brow in faux concern. "Perhaps we should give it a thorough washing…we don't know where it's been."

"That's disgusting," she said reprovingly.

He only laughed and then eyed the instrument thoughtfully.

"Can I…" he reached out, but Susan held it away from him warily. "What? I want give it a blow!"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"But I've always liked your horn! You never let me sound it…"

Her eyes flashed with incredulity. "Peter!"

"Come on, Su! Let me have my fun."

"It's not meant for _fun_!"

"Bloody hell, why not?" He stared her down in all earnestness, which Susan couldn't make head or tails of.

"It's for emergencies," she replied in disbelief. Did he really require an explanation? Peter wasn't that daft.

"Then, as High King, I declare this an emergency."

"As High Queen, I'm telling you no! What is your obsession with the thing?"

"Pleaseeeeeeeee," he begged, sticking out his lower lip in an all too endearing way.

"Oh for… very well! Go ahead! Sound away. We shall soon see if all Narnia is called to our chambers."

He took the horn with a gleeful smile and then put it aside without a second thought. Susan gaped at him.

"You just-mmf!" She was silenced by Peter's mouth.

Kissing and undressing, he never gave her a chance to speak, though she did try. When she was completely bare before him, he grinned wolfishly and laid her back on the bed, sliding down till his head was between her thighs. Susan gasped.

"Whatever made you think _that_ was the horn in question?"

* * *

It was still warm as the sunlight began to fade between the trees. They laid nakedly entwined on Peter's tunic talking to each other about matters of no importance at all, which was a welcome relief from the daily rigors of palace life. Peter lazily danced his fingertips up and down the length of Susan's back while she had her face buried in the crook of his neck, ensuring that she could take no breath without breathing him in as well. So much they had overcome to reach this point in their lives, where they were allowed so simply to be with each other without fear of retribution. After so many years of happiness, it was difficult not to just forget about the trials altogether.

It was with a wince followed by a mad scramble that they heard Edmund and Lucy calling in the distance. Susan knew they had been gone too long, she told him so! Dusk was rapidly encroaching and the High King and High Queen had been astray from Cair Paravel's grounds for nearly the entire day. This couldn't be happening again. At 29 years old, Susan was far too old for this foolishness. Actually, she had well matured past this point by the time she was 12, but no matter.

"Blast!" she cried and rushed to put her dress on again. "I'm hardly prepared to go another round of goading with those two. I've just barely recovered from the last time they caught us by the river."

"I'm still cold from that…" Peter grumbled.

"This is all your fault."

"Me! I'm not the one who wanted this little excursion. I was perfectly content at the castle, unlike someone…"

"It was a beautiful day! We couldn't dare spend it indoors!"

The calls came again, much closer this time, and both their eyes went wide.

"Quick!" Peter said and they darted into the brush half-clothed.

"WE SEE YOU!" Edmund cried and there was a stampede of feet on the forest floor as the younger siblings chased after the eldest ones in a manner wholly opposite of their ages.

"You've got to be joking!" Susan huffed in disbelief and they ducked behind some bushes, but it was for naught because Peter started to guffaw, giving their place away. Susan swatted him furiously, but he couldn't contain himself. Edmund and Lucy, of course, found them and peered down at the couple in amusement.

With an indignant glower, Susan stood and proceeded to finish buttoning her dress with as much grace as she could muster while Peter was still laughing on the ground with his tunic in hand.

"If Narnia could see you now," Lucy said. "The High King and High Queen resorting to trysts in the woods like uncontrollable adolescents and running away from their siblings to boot!"

"Now, now, Lu," Ed interjected. "Don't be too harsh on them. I'm sure they've just completely forgotten that there is an allotted place for this kind of behavior…as in their private quarters, but surely we cannot be surprised for they have made this mistake before."

"Oh, yes! Still a bit chilly from the river, brother? How peculiar it was that your clothes somehow vanished…"

"Rather…" Peter glared at her good-naturedly.

Lucy made a face at him and then her attitude changed in all seriousness. "Honestly, you've got to stop disappearing like this. You know how worried everyone-"

"Did you hear that?" Susan said all of a sudden, looking around the forest.

The other three scoured the area as well. A whistle sounded again in the distance, stronger this time.

"It's coming from the tree there!" Peter pointed at one several yards away.

Its size and unique sense of grandeur set itself apart from the rest in the forest. At first glance, Peter could not determine its kind, which piqued his curiosity all the more. He looked to Susan at his side; she had forgotten the last few buttons of her dress while focusing on the tree. Already the four of them were closing in on it with shared caution, each drawn to it with an equal sense of thrall.

"What is it?" Edmund asked in wonder as they neared the tree. Now joining the whistle, there was a low rumbling with harsh clanking noises. It grew louder and louder with every passing second.

"An odd sort of ruckus!" Lucy remarked, looking up and down the old and gnarled trunk.

Susan's eyes widened with long lost recognition and she gasped, "It sounds like it's a-"

And just like that, they were gone.


	9. Epilogue

Her feet were propped up on the arm of the couch, dangling off amusingly while her head rested in Peter's lap. He had unconsciously stretched his arm across her breasts to take hold of her hand while he read a book. It was so pleasantly wonderful to be there with him like this, a rare chance to be relaxed and unguarded; a brilliant smile worked onto her lips and stubbornly remained.

After they returned from Narnia for a second time, ending up right in the same train station they thought they had left behind all those years ago, Peter was absolutely terrified she would retreat from him as she did before. Susan surprised him though. She remembered his promise, that they would always find a way to be together, and swore to herself she would hold it true. Even though they were back in England, as she had always feared, she wouldn't have changed her decision in Narnia for anything. No matter what the future brought, even if they were torn apart again, still those glorious years together would remain – nothing could take away the memories. She wouldn't allow it.

Which isn't to say that their lives were so very easy - far from it in fact. Every move they made together was done with utmost caution, ever constant secrecy. Some days Susan felt like her whole life was just one massive lie all tied up with itself, and it truly was. Lightly, she nuzzled Peter's arm, turning her face in to rub against the cotton of his sleeve and brought him closer to use as a pillow. Still, as difficult as their lives became sometimes, all she ever had to do was fall into his arms and she would know with absolute certainty that it was all worth it. Besides, it wouldn't be this way forever, she and Peter had already begun to make their plans to leave once his schooling was finished. They would leave the country, change their names, be themselves in the open and no longer live in fear of discovery. They would be accepted again. One day she found herself discussing it with Lucy and said, "I have faith it will all sort itself." Never would she forget the look in her little sister's eyes when she said the word. She could hardly believe it herself. Lucy simply took Susan's hand in hers and agreed.

Yes, it would sort itself.

Now as they reclined in a quiet moment alone together, after spending so many painful months apart at school, Peter and Susan only had a few days left before their parents were to leave for America, Dad having business there. Edmund and Lucy were to go to their Aunt and Uncle's and suffer the spoilt Eustace. Ed was absolutely beside himself when they were told.

Mum wanted Susan to go with them to America, while Peter went to study with the Professor, but Susan couldn't bear to be away from him for so long. Six weeks would be intolerable, especially since they were forced to spend the better part of the year separated by school. Peter felt the same, and without her even knowing it, he applied to the Professor for help. Since the dear man had lost his fortune soon after the war, he only kept a humble cottage now with one bedroom to spare. Peter was so desperate not to be parted, he pleaded with the Professor to allow them to stay, revealing their _unique_ relationship in the process.

At first, she was horrified that he could be so reckless as to give away their secret like that, knowing the damage it could cause, and doing so without telling her! It was a source of numerous arguments in the days following, but in the end, Peter's instincts had guided him well. The Professor immediately wrote back to their parents, offering accommodations for both. Susan knew not what to make of the old man, what he could be thinking, but with the knowledge that she would not be taken from her husband, she felt at ease. The Professor was no ordinary adult, just as they were no ordinary teenagers.

When she raised her fingers and started ticking off silent numbers in the air, Peter raised an eyebrow and said, "Counting sheep already? It's a bit early for that."

"As a matter of fact, I was merely tallying our years together."

"That shouldn't be difficult," he mumbled absently. "It matches quite well with our ages."

"Hardly! By my account, we're married twenty-two years now."

Peter blinked at that and cocked his head thoughtfully as he ruminated over the news.

"Twenty-two years of marriage when we're only fifteen and sixteen respectively…"

She laughed. "How peculiar we are!"

"Well, I know how peculiar _you_ are, Susan Pevensie. Myself on the other hand…"

"Do shut up."

He chuckled. "Then I suppose we should be celebrating our twenty-third anniversary soon. We did have a summer wedding…"

"Shall I pick the day?" she asked. "Since we have no way to know the precise date… if it even coincides with this time…" she trailed off with a contemplative frown.

"I wouldn't analyze that too much, your brain might melt from sheer impossibility," he cautioned and added, "If you choose the date, will you tell me what is? Or leave me to guess and be cross when I do so incorrectly?"

Her brow furrowed and she looked up at him. "Why would I do such an absurd thing?"

"Isn't that what married women do? Wait for their husbands to forget anniversaries and then leap at the chance to snipe if the poor fools do?"

Susan elbowed him in the thigh. "What a ghastly thing to say of women! I had thought you better than chauvinism."

"Oi! I didn't mean it like that!"

"I suppose you'll have to do something especially important for our anniversary to make up for it," she sniffed.

"Suppose I do," he replied warmly.

Their mother walked in and narrowed her eyes at her eldest son.

"Peter, for pities sake, keep your boots out of the hall! I nearly broke my neck coming down this morning."

"Sorry, Mum!" Peter said with a sheepish look and Susan rolled her eyes.

The older woman never bat an eye at their reclined positions, having adjusted to their increased physical intimacy upon return from boarding school in the past years. Susan overheard her discussing the difference in their relationship with their father one night. Dad was a bit perplexed by how inseparable they appeared to be, a gross change from the division witnessed only a couple years before. Mum excused it, saying that they were always close, from birth really, and she assumed it was because of how matched they were in ages. With only a year to separate them, surely they found a great deal in common, more so than they would find with the younger ones.

Now, neither of their parents took surprise in finding them wrapped up as they were. Mum laughed once and said they would never have use for furniture with how they tended to use each other as pillows or chairs or whatever the situation called for. It never occurred to her how physical boundaries seemed to be nonexistent between them, a type of intimacy that can only be obtained by the deepest of joining between lovers. It simply pleased her to know that they were close, that they would lean on each other for support, and watch over the other when she herself couldn't. Her only wish was that Edmund and Lucy would find a similar accord, and put an end to their insufferable bickering. Upon hearing that, the two younger siblings turned a bit green and shot out of the room in opposite directions while Peter and Susan snickered. Their mother never suspected a thing.

"Won't happen again," he promised.

"See to it," Mrs. Pevensie huffed, searching for an object on the shelf. "Oh, and Susan, dear, Emily rang earlier whilst you were out and asked if you would be joining the girls next week."

Susan glanced up at him before looking to their mother again. "No, I should think not. I've already plans for that day."

"Oh?" she turned around, having found what she needed. "What plans?"

"Just a little celebration for two people I know," she replied evasively.

Mrs. Pevensie was far too focused on the other tasks at hand to really listen to what Susan was saying. "Very good. You'll ring her back then?" She didn't bother to wait for an answer before she disappeared from the room.

"So we have our day?" Peter prompted.

Susan nodded with a wistful smile.

"I'll bring the cake, you bring the horn."

"DO SHUT UP!"


End file.
